


Cutting Vines

by Butane Baby (Butane_Baby9)



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Possibly Unrequited Love, Romance, Sexual Content, mature bulma, mature geets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 00:32:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16505711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butane_Baby9/pseuds/Butane%20Baby
Summary: Vegeta reunites with a woman from his past, unexpectedly, during a vulnerable moment. His wife's importance to him soon takes center stage.





	1. Outlived Them All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScarletRaven1001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletRaven1001/gifts), [wistfulmuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wistfulmuse/gifts), [jadefyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadefyre/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He is... a man who lives for challenges."

"Quetta! Jocser! Help me get him out of this suit and sitting up now. He's suffocating and needs fluid drained from his lungs. His resistance is down. He can't hurt you."

She couldn't believe her eyes. He had aged visibly, but he still appeared so…young. His facial expression was stony and serious. That had not changed. Yet he looked as peaceful as a man like him could ever be.

After carefully lifting the stranger's eyelids, Jocser said, "His pupils are dilated, Shana." Quetta reached to check his pulse. Eerily, across his chest and shoulders, the debilitated man's top skin layer appeared semi-transparent, exposing snake-like tributaries of blood vessels and veins.

"Be careful," Shana warned, observing powdery purple residue on his neck and face. "The poison dried quickly, which means it's mostly neutralized, but use this cloth to touch him there anyway."

She punctured his back with a needle, drawing fluid out. Worrying about an infection would come later. "You  _bastard_ ," she whispered in her language. "You're not dying on me today. Not after all these years."

Quetta and Jocser stared at her curiously. Neither had seen her curse at  _anyone_ before. Oblivious to their concern, she spoke to the stranger telepathically, in his native tongue. Mortals across the universe could communicate outside of their own languages – a gift provided by higher powers. Shana wanted to keep him alert enough until they could stabilize him for transport.

_"Can you hear me, Vegeta?"_

_"Yes,"_ he replied in Saiyan dialect. He understood.

 _By the gods._ Relieved, Shana inhaled.  _His vengeance outlived them all._  Seeing Vegeta lay waste to his opponents would have been a fine gift, but now wasn't the time to dawdle in bloodlust fantasies - though her former lover might have been amused. Vegeta's definition of "lover" diverged from when they first met, but time apart may have changed that.

Jocser's kind voice interrupted her reverie. "Who is this person? He is fortunate to have you here."

Frowning, Shana felt Vegeta's forehead and clutched his hand gently. "He is… a man who lives for challenges. Let's go quickly. It might take more time to lower his fever."

XxxxOOOxxxX

Shana and Vegeta had sex secretly each time he visited her planet, when Frieza's Planetary Trade Organization was at its height of colonial dominance in Universe Seven. As a longtime soldier, Vegeta's violent, choleric reputation preceded him. Others may have been physically stronger, but he wielded his Saiyan fighting talent and smarts like a gifted surgeon.

Worlds had been subdued, sold to other powerful planets, or just became Frieza's extended, lifelong playgrounds _._ Inhabitants, if they weren't slaughtered wholesale "for useful and necessary purposes," adjusted to his authoritarian leadership. When called to serve in the military, one did. "If you can't beat him, join him," many thought. Basic trade and education continued. Many mortals lived tolerable lives and were permitted self-governance on their planets, and even spiritual worship - until they couldn't, like the Saiyans, whose strength, growing population, and agitation threatened the status quo.

Shana was no fool. Vegeta's warrior race had its own galactic folklore. Indeed, they were fearsome and exceedingly powerful. How did a handful manage to survive, including their king's then seven-year-old son, when  _everyone_  else died in an explosion? Frieza likely devised a genocide, Shana thought, which Vegeta probably suspected. Broaching the subject with him would've been madness, though, so she didn't.

Over time, she asked Vegeta to teach his language to her – not much, but just enough. His enigmatic, penetrating stares were distracting, but he never refused her requests. He was an efficient instructor. She was a quick learner. He even left a recording of words and phrases. Shana figured he opened that small part of himself because he faced belittlement constantly, despite his intelligence.

One day Vegeta had been furious after Dodoria, a burly, pink-skinned alien general and one of Frieza's right-hand men, hurled a vulgar insult about his heritage. Vegeta's face froze while others snickered. Silence kept him  _physically_   _safe_  - mentally, not so much - but the risk of fighting outweighed the benefit. Plus, he had a long, merciless memory.

Despite his brutality, Dodoria was known for being good to troops. He also considered himself a thorough, understanding trainer during the orphaned prince's childhood. Thus, he doubly resented Vegeta's haughtiness and disdain. Yes, the prince had suffered pain and humiliation as a child, and his people were exploited. Others had too.  _Sink or swim_. Saiyans weren't renowned for excessive sentiment anyway. Vegeta's father knew his son would be a talented "swimmer" from infancy, and the prince had made it this far. That should have been enough validation, Dodoria believed.

Shana later found an excuse to enter the Saiyans' austere living space, derisively called "the monkey's cage," to leave something for Vegeta. She mainly worked with plants and flowers but also had outside duties when top army officers visited. The Saiyans weren't elite level, but they had some privileges.

Vegeta made a stink after they arrived. He did not raise his voice, though. With an icy glare, he twisted Shana's arm and said, "Improve your spying skills." Then he pushed her out. His companions stared coldly, as if they were waiting to make her disappear  _forever_.

Vegeta cornered Shana later that night as she walked home, which she expected. She waved her hand to create a protective sound barrier as they moved within a willow tree thicket. Spiraling leaves swayed around them. They didn't speak until arriving at a clearing in the middle.

"What you did today was stupid and selfish," Vegeta snapped. "I thought you were smarter."

"You're calling me selfish, Vegeta?"

"OK. Let's settle on  _stupid_. I'm not above killing you without remorse to save myself first.  _Never forget that._  Whatever you were doing wasn't that important."

"So I should also be ready to kill you without remorse then," Shana replied flatly. "Got it, commander."

"I would prefer it."

Vegeta observed her before they kissed passionately. One hand covered her mouth while he tore her undergarments. His dick's entry inside of her was hard and unyielding – and different. Shana moaned as he laid her flat on the grass and continued until she was covered in sweat. He grunted softly as his thrusting accelerated. Carnal pleasure overtook all senses until Shana's mind fogged during orgasm.

Afterward, hoping to break Vegeta's detachment, Shana moved down to fellate him. Eyes emotionless, he turned away, shaking his head.

"We're done," he said, speaking in Saiyan. "You know what I am. The safest place for you is here."

Against her better judgement, Shana lifted her chin confidently and asked, "Will you come back?"

Vegeta cocked his head. "Why would I do that?  _You don't mean that much to me_. No one ever will."

Ignoring his scoffing, she replied, "He… will not rule forever, Vegeta. His family won't either."

"No, they _won't_ ," the prince said darkly. "That time may be sooner than many believe." He flew away before Shana could say anything else. She had become another distraction.

XxxxOOOxxxX

Vines sprouted from every direction imaginable, so much that the sky above the forest blackened. Vegeta had not feared the onslaught, but the twining tendrils' attempt to subdue him was exceedingly aggressive. However, he knew these attackers weren't sentient and capable of reasoning. Many planets had touch-sensitive plant species. He just had the misfortune of triggering a particularly difficult one. He didn't increase his power level, though. Fighting in his base form should be sufficient to overcome the problem, he thought. Restraint was necessary to avoid wholesale disruption of the ecosystem.

His wife Bulma had designed a sleek, enhanced battle suit - a godsend, unsurprisingly. He snaked through bluish-green corkscrews like a professional navigator but the hostile vegetation was relentless, delaying important business.  _Enough of this,_ his inner critic scolded. He smirked. _That's what you get for testing this overgrown house plant's strength - but this is just who you are._

His gloved hands formed circular, saw-edged light beams. Torrid, searing teeth lacerated the vines, which fell in large flopping splinters. Frustrated and shaking his head, the prince soared above the mess. Fortunately, his optical camera implant recorded everything. Bulma's technicians also equipped his suit with nanotechnology for biochemical testing, logging all organic compounds he encountered.

Vegeta had hoped the outcome would satisfy those who sought his and Bulma's help. He visited the gorgeous planet, Aurora, while serving in Frieza's intergalactic army. His former commander and wicked chief officers once considered the place more of vacation home than an operations base.

 _Why am I so sweaty?_ He wiped his forehead and looked around. Atmospheric temperature barely topped seventy degrees. His vision blurred with cloudy halos and zig zag lines. Then he had trouble breathing.  _Those vines aren't native to this planet._   _I remember now. Shit. How did they get here?_

XxxxOOOxxxX

Frieza had been fickle allowing access to Aurora's amenities to Vegeta and his Saiyan attendants, Nappa and Raditz. Rather, he preferred seeing them envious. Vegeta appeared not to care. By then he knew "Lord Frieza" had likely murdered his father, after successfully orchestrating the prince's "perfect" abduction. A lifetime of servitude, fear, rage, power, bullying, and torture soiled his soul, but he wouldn't forsake his Saiyan legacy. He had to believe, proudly and defiantly.

Aurora's humanoids, the Celini, were fine caretakers despite their so-called "visitors" snootiness. The people understood their planet's value and did everything possible to preserve it. Frieza, as despotic as he was, genuinely liked their home and preferred it pristine, like his beloved red wine.

Vegeta also had been one of Frieza's favored pirates, more or less, but the boss couldn't risk liberating his "pet" from beneath his ruthless thumb. The prince's raw talent and strength, though extraordinary, had not been realized fully. Frieza practically salivated over sculpting the Vegeta's mind for total submission. With a suspicious eye, he would ensure that the restless boy entered adulthood emotionally deadened.

Vegeta's raging hands, and unadulterated brutality, had once generated ample fear and suffering across the galaxy. Entire mythologies emerged, in fact, but Frieza's real, deplorable acts overshadowed them –and always would. "Remorse has no place among the powerful," he often said.

Vegeta learned otherwise. Innate power from  _the best_   _within him_  had become nearly unstoppable, beyond his wildest dreams. More, he married a remarkable woman who believed the best had been there all along, and their two children were destined to surpass him, both in character and strength. One day he would die smiling with pride, knowing that a proper, honorable inheritance was left for them.

That's all he wanted now.

 _Damn it. I should have listened to my wife._  His eye camera shut down, indicating reduced brain function. A poor defense method, he thought through increasing drowsiness. Animalistic noises assaulted his hearing, confusing his direction. His mind couldn't regulate the sound vibrations anymore. Fortunately, Bulma equipped his suit to regulate body temperature, lowering his sweating and emerging fever.

Thank the universe for that – for her.

XxxxOOOxxxX

Good stories eventually spread about Vegeta over decades. He had been a fierce protector of worlds, a stellar warrior, and a loyal friend to several, becoming a giant among mortals. Others received word that he and another powerful Saiyan, Son Goku, bravely fought more than once to save the universe.

Wherever forgiveness could be offered for the prince's misdeeds, someone mustered the will to extend it. No society among the living was exempt from evil's trappings or soul-crushing anguish.

None.

Vegeta simply had been grateful. People gave what they could. As an older man, he didn't ponder his destiny as much anymore. Others did the work for him, apparently. A few loose-lipped, lower-level deities among the divine kais likely planted favorable stories with some mortals to nurture intergalactic stability, while avoiding broader disruption of the universe overall. They couldn't interfere too much.

Universe Seven's deities knew what they knew, recognizing the gift they had in the prince of all Saiyans. Evildoing always would be among them, and the kais had witnessed their own fall short of grace too.

Vegeta's flying weaved erratically. His baseline strength was intact, but the plant toxin was potent. He suspected that ascending to Super Saiyan power levels might worsen his condition. Symptoms: rapid heart rate, breathing difficulty, drooping eyelids, agitation, and irregular sensations in more limbs than preferable.

The poison was attacking his central nervous system.

Vegeta sighed. _I'm in shock. Well, what comes next? Searing pain or do I pee and shit all over myself?_

He had to find humor somewhere. Facing death numerous times did that to a person. His arms, legs and chest were on slow burn. He closed his eyes, wondering if unconsciousness would take him out first before the nerve pain exploded.

Having an exceptionally high tolerance for physical agony and exhaustion usually bolstered his confidence, but now his body neared the limits of his pain threshold. The speed alarmed him most.

He tried ignoring negative thoughts: He had traveled alone, with his team scattered elsewhere. He didn't send a distress call when the vines attacked or power-up suitably for a protective barrier. But he was no weakling. He believed steadfastly that years of body conditioning would keep him alive.

He shook his head.  _What does Bulma say_?  _Hope and faith? Yes. She always does. Must slow down._  His hearing device opened contact with an off-planet spaceship.

"It's Darren, sir. Your vital signs are off, according to the on-site ship. Is everything OK?"

Vegeta coughed heavily and said, "Stop asking questions you… you already know the answer to, kid."

Though nervous, the prince's toughness and wit inspired the young responder. "Your away team is coming, sir. I suggest remaining quiet. Land where you are."  
_  
_ "I know what to do," Vegeta said calmly. "Use the images I… I… I transferred to review the vegetation. This is... a big planet, so tell the team to haul ass and...and be careful. Also, tell my wife… that I love her."

Darren swallowed and looked up. "I would prefer you telling Dr. Brief in person."

With that, Vegeta's eyes rolled backward as his body dropped from midair. Worried gasps filled the ship's control room when everyone heard the crash.

Darren stood. "Can you hear me? Vegeta? Talk to me _, please_."

Looking grim, a few lieutenants dressed quickly to join the team on Aurora. Within three hours everyone on the ship learned that Vegeta's body had vanished. His ki was untraceable before he hit ground.

There would be no divine intervention this time.  


* * *

**Hello there! Thank you for taking a chance on the story. I appreciate it. Please take a moment to comment if you can.**  


	2. You Can Sleep When You're Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Vegeta be exploited during his incapacitation?

Pain had been a constant, and, more than ever, Vegeta understood and respected his companion. Its derivatives never failed to challenge him. They were his meditation: He learned discipline by studying and adapting his training to them. No matter how much he felt, he did not despair. He could not. Pride told him so. He prepared for the worst but always expected the best.

The vines thick, milky sap had splashed on Vegeta's face. Semiconscious, he dissociated from anxiety as his pain intensified. His body shifted between muscle spasms and spasticity. His voice had been stolen.

He saw her face before darkness swept in.

"Saiyan immunity is damned near perfection," Bulma grumbled jealously during his physical exams. Heaven forbid if she caught a cold or developed a skin rash. Vegeta would prance smugly for about ten minutes, crowing about his "superiority." Then, he gave his princess whatever she wanted to make her feel better, no questions asked. Wisdom and age fortified their deep, abiding love and appreciation for each other. Save for death, nothing ever could come between them now, regardless of probability.

Calculating probability, however, had been Bulma's steady, scientific approach to protect their family. When their son Trunks turned four, she  _ordered_  Vegeta to recall when his immunity had failed and what made him ill. Afterward, her father's researchers catalogued unfamiliar biomarkers from blood tests, comparing them with Earth's organic and inorganic compounds as well as other humanoid species.

Vegeta skipped taking a special immunity booster before leaving the ship. Bulma would've slapped him for being so foolish - or at least tried to - since his team had been cataloging specimens during the reconnaissance mission. Many Celini died years earlier during an influenza pandemic. One of Frieza's former workers, symptom-free carrier of the virus, spread it after settling on Aurora.

The origin of the space mission was a grizzled ex-mercenary seeking Vegeta and Bulma's help. He had been traveling in deep space, befriending a gentle, elderly Celini man named Tein at a remote galactic station. Tein been a favorite servant of Zarbon, Frieza's vain henchman, and Vegeta remembered him. The old man said Aurora retained ample resources and his Celini brethren might welcome more support.

Vegeta and Bulma's informant suggested meeting with those left, if possible, to urge rebuilding friendly, technologically protected colonies for displaced refugees from planets experiencing conflict, and other travelers. The couple weighed pros and cons in bed that night. Vegeta explained his concerns about returning. Bulma suggested altering his appearance. He agreed to it, grudgingly.

XxxxOOOxxxX

Shana observed Vegeta while adjusting his oxygen mask.  _Eye color, beard, and relaxed hair. How absurd. You could never fool me, Vegeta. I saw how special you were back then, even as terrible as you were. You loved my home differently. I saw it … and you cared for me. I thought you did._

Vegeta felt something cool and wet gently brush his cheeks and lips. A facecloth? Nausea and intense pain persuaded him to keep his mouth shut nevertheless. Not being dead again sufficed for now. Twice in this epoch was enough. His spasms had stopped temporarily, but he couldn't move his arms or legs. Pulsing light spots had replaced full eyesight. At least the low-level humming in his ears had ended.

"Try not to move," a woman's voice whispered softly. "It's only been a day. You're quite sick and we must keep your fever down. Orachid vines usually are efficient killers. You are very strong."

Not strong enough at the moment, Vegeta thought, which irked him. He felt the woman caress his beard, angering him further. He knew she wasn't his wife. Sick or not, he  _hated_  being touched in this way without explicit permission. If this woman knew him, then she should know that, but he couldn't focus well. He stopped resisting drowsiness, finally accepting more pain relief from the medication he received. He hadn't felt euphoria like this before, but he couldn't rest within its warm embrace forever.

His willpower spoke this truth through a vision of Bulma, as it often did:

_"When are you coming home, tough guy?"_

_"Leave me alone, woman."_

" _You don't want that. You won't know what to do without me."_

_"Sleeping is high on my list, Bulma. I'm tired. Really tired."_

_"So what? You can sleep when you're dead."_  
  
_"I suppose so."_

He wondered how much time had passed after he regained full consciousness.  _Maybe a day? The woman said a day, right? It must be long past that now._ _A week, probably._  He blinked slowly to assess what he was up against. Shana certainly  _appeared_  statelier in middle age. Her long white hair had been woven into tiny plaits that draped over her shoulders. Her sepia skin enhanced golden accents in her almond-shaped brown eyes. Her welcoming and thoughtful smile didn't mask her shrewdness. They never did with him. Not one bit.

She nodded to confirm her identity. "Ah, I see you recognize me now. Not the cheerful welcome I expected. Are you able to speak?"

 _"Is this an act of kindness or am I your captive?"_ Vegeta said telepathically. " _Were you behind this?"_

Overlooking his mistrust, Shana tilted her head and said, "I see your haughtiness is intact. Maybe you are delirious from fever still. No, wait. Maybe I should  _induce_  delirium until your entire body recovers."

 _"Pardon me for not appreciating your humor,"_ he replied sarcastically. _"Where the hell am I?"_

She rolled her eyes. "A medical compound, Vegeta."

 _Fuck the pain._ Now furious, he tried moving to little avail - and it hurt like hell. More concerning, he had zero strength. He felt like an electrical cord detached from a generator. How could a plant poison do this? He was  _alive_  and  _angry_  and couldn't feel  _anything_  besides pain or numbness. He couldn't command any of his natural power. This problem exceeded feeling drained. He felt robbed.  _Anyone_ could kill him easily.

He hadn't realized how destructive Orachids truly were  _if one lived_ through poisoning. He first encountered one in an army lab. How the medium-sized plant mysteriously arrived, he didn't care to know. The toxin's chemical makeup was too unstable for weapons, a scientist said. The risk of destroying all life on a valuable planet was too high. Unfortunately, the man also disappeared "mysteriously" a year later, and the plant was destroyed. That's what Vegeta learned through gossip. Frieza could be unpredictable, but he liked efficient outcomes. He also followed a sadist's "code of honor," preferring to see worthy opponents put up good fights before he crushed them. He favored torture or  _dramatic_  destruction – sometimes both - for "routine killing." _  
_  
But what if some crazed researcher – someone as smart as Bulma and her sister— discovered how to modify and create the ultimate biological weapon? No fighter would be immune from having their powers and physicality stripped from them – maybe for a long, long time. Was the plant enchanted too? Vegeta saw his entire life pass before his eyes again. Even Shana would have been surprised to hear the enraged curses filling his mind. How could she be so blithe? How in the hell did that  _thing_  get here?

"Y _ou know people are searching, Shana. They will find me. Why haven't you shown yourself until now? My team has been here for days. We sent friendly signals. You must have sensors."_

Shana raised a skeptical eyebrow and said, "First, consider with whom I'm speaking. I know it's been a while, but you Saiyans don't die easily, evidently, and tend to be rather…aggressive."

" _Yes,_   _Frieza learned the hard way about our longevity_.  _As I recall, I told you his days were marked._ "

Shana sat down next to him and said, "Second, if you recall, your power scouter devices detect Cellini life force imperfectly. Third, you aren't leaving here until I get some answers."

 _Scouters? It's like they're living in the dark ages_ , Vegeta thought. His chest suddenly launched into a hard coughing fit. Shana took his hand reflexively, hoping to calm him, while the other supported his back. Her eyes reflected hurt, sadness, longing, and loneliness.

Staring up at her, Vegeta couldn't believe she still loved him – or at all, really. He had been a terror when they met in their early twenties, but the way Shana carried herself intrigued him. She should have feared him more. Frieza was too busy giving orders from his gilded perch to notice any strong attraction, which Vegeta took pains to hide. Traveling a lot helped. One of Frieza's jealous underlings probably would have killed Shana or tortured her family while Vegeta traveled on assignment. Frieza banned rape on what had become his private oasis under threat of death. His men could do  _that_ anywhere, he said.

Nappa and Raditz over the years had noticed the prince's attraction, of course. Vegeta wasn't a womanizer. He slept with a few on missions but remained strict and goal-focused. When he wasn't fighting, he usually was the quietest person in the room. For more than two years he rampaged privately about challenging Frieza. But with each assignment, after witnessing Vegeta's ferocity, his companions wondered uneasily if Frieza would claim their prince's soul. Neither wanted that.

Successful missions often launched the prince into obsessive proclamations about the Saiyans' greatness. Sometimes he behaved like a crazed evangelist, retelling folklore about legendary Super Saiyan ascension and reminding his companions that he would be the strongest warrior in the universe. How would a woman  _he liked_  fit in? All roads led to death, Nappa and Raditz thought, possibly by Vegeta's hand to stop Shana from being taken from Aurora and used as a "toy." He wasn't ready to challenge Frieza's elite forces alone yet, and Shana would rather die than be anyone's tortured sex slave.

No man dared to discuss it with him. If Vegeta saw Shana again, they would take matters into their own hands. When all three left Aurora for another assignment, Nappa and Vegeta guardedly accepted Raditz' desire to separate temporarily. A year later, they arrived on Earth to avenge their companion's death.

XxxxOOOxxxX

Vegeta's eyesight blurred again. He wished to speak out loud. That pained him. " _Don't give me any more drugs for my coughing or pain. I can handle it."_

Shana stroked his face and said, "Maybe, but you might change your mind. Even the great Prince Vegeta has had doubts, I'm sure."

_"Stop it, Shana – now."_

"Stop what?"

 _"Touching me like that_." Vegeta glanced at her hand. " _I can't move a muscle and you're taking advantage. It's beneath you. Stop. It's been decades since we..."_

Lowering her arm, Shana gazed at him. "You have a mate, don't you?"

While perturbed, Vegeta felt some pity. Not a lot, though, considering that she seemed uninterested in notifying anyone about his condition. He had to shock her out of this unhealthy fantasy. Had she left the planet at all? Why did she stay after so many had died? How many others were left?

 _"Most of those we knew then wouldn't believe it,"_  he replied. _"Don't assume anything. Now, tell me: Where are the others? There's barely any proper technology here now, from what I see."_

Vegeta shuddered as fresh spasms shot like rocket fire across his legs.  _I am one of the strongest mortals in the universe, and here I am, felled by a fucking ivy plant_. While less horrible, the pain pissed him off. He had to determine how the Earth-based research team at Capsule Corporation, now run by Bulma's sister, could examine this toxin.

Disobeying his wishes, Shana injected him. "And don't be evasive, Vegeta. Anyway, I just gave you another serum that won't put you to sleep. It's been three days now. I'm not so crazy to believe I could hold you against your will – or would want to. You are recovering better than we first thought, but it may take months before you can walk properly."

 _"Don't be sure,"_  Vegeta said. _"I have no worries."_  He had not intended to overstate his confidence. Old habit.  _  
_  
"Oh, you do have some, I suspect." Shana reattached his earpiece, activating it, while another woman entered the room and nodded. "Our technology here works well enough.  _We saved you._  The rest of my race is happy to live simply after enduring the worst for years. Defectors from your army are here, too."

" _Former army,_ " Vegeta interrupted,  _"and it was never mine. Slavery comes in all forms."_

Shana exhaled and said, "I understand that. We don't ask questions about past behavior on Aurora because we all desire peace. Even the toughest among them hide out of fear. Perhaps you would call them cowards."

 _"People have their reasons for retreating,"_ Vegeta replied. _"I have never been very good at that, being Saiyan, but even I have had moments."_

"Yes, you have." Smiling, Shana touched the door frame. "Welcome back, Prince Vegeta. Your people have arrived. Also, instead of assuming we are helpless, you could see things differently. Maybe we  _allowed_  you back on Aurora."

A young man dressed in the away team's uniform entered. He tried masking the mixture of relief and resentment on his face. "Sir, we're transporting you back to the ship immediately."

 _"She saved my life,"_ Vegeta said telepathically. " _Reserve your anger to fight someone trying to kill me."_


	3. By His Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Vegeta, who remains ill and incapacitated from accidental poisoning, has been transferred to his space ship. Shana, the former lover who saved his life, has accompanied him.

Real-time communication between Earth and the ship happened once daily for four hours, the limit for that part of deep space. If the mission were threatened, simplified distress signals would broadcast to ensure that someone would find them, either dead or alive.

Bulma's children flanked her protectively as they held hands. Two doctors stood aside as video of a bedridden Vegeta appeared on screen in her lab. Throughout their marriage, Bulma understood her mate's motivations better than anyone – next to Goku, of course - but seeing Vegeta hurt physically or emotionally never would be easy.

An irregular patchwork of electrodes crisscrossed Vegeta's arms, thighs, and upper and lower torso. Pneumatic compression cuffs encircled his legs for blood circulation. The therapy was designed to keep his complex musculature and circulatory system at peak condition for as long as possible.

"Can he talk?"

"Not right now, Bulma," an older, mustachioed man replied. "He's received good treatment, though, despite the paralysis."

Though unintentional, the doctor's response sounded lackluster to a frustrated Bulma, who struck her lab's control panel with enough force to fracture her hand. Luckily, she didn't. Vegeta jokingly reminded before leaving Earth to wear shock-absorbing gloves during all stressful situations related  _to him._

" _Good?_ " she hissed. "What in the hell does that mean, Donovan?  _This is my husband._ He was a galactic wrecking ball until three days ago! Look at him!You, sir, aren't there for  _good_ treatment. I expect excellence. Do we know why his so-called rescuers kept him this long? Three  _fucking_  days?"

The room fell silent.

Vegeta and Bulma were skilled performers of "good cop, bad cop" to get answers. Their kids hated it. Bulma was angry, no doubt, but the prince knew she was playing aggressive interrogator  _heavier_  than usual – leaving some room for a stronger response later. Her act had someone in its crosshairs. Given his condition, Vegeta had no choice but to follow along and become the sympathetic "good cop."

He closed his eyes to concentrate. " _You're digging yourself into a giant hole with my wife, doctor. Tell Bulma I'll be fine as long as I can hear her god-awful screeching. It's enough to wake the dead, and so far I'm still alive."_

Blushing from embarrassment, the flustered doctor promptly followed orders. After a communal pause, everyone in the recovery room laughed hysterically. Some of ship's crew members could barely catch their breath. Vegeta's eyes had been expressive enough to deliver his taunts impeccably.

"Gods, you are  _so_  awful." Bulma, who was laughing and crying, touched her lips to blow a kiss. "Just awful. I heard you declared love for me before passing out. Practically the entire ship says so."

"Vegeta says they're all liars," Donovan replied with a straight face, prompting more laughter. "Everyone, we've had our fun here. We are grateful to have him back, but now the family needs privacy. Then our patient must rest. The toxin did a number on him."

"Mom, you want us to stay?" Trunks asked. Not wanting to leave, Bulla frowned at her older brother, but she knew Trunks always had been more intuitive. His question offered an opening since Bulma wouldn't ask them to leave otherwise, knowing how much they loved their father.

Releasing his hand, Bulma inhaled. "You two should go. We'll talk at dinner. Papa and I will be fine.''

Trunks and Bulla raised their fists and said in their father's language, "Ish-ki marr ete, yeratar."  _We honor you, father._

Normally, Vegeta would have replied, "Ehr-ki marr ete, yeratrey."  _And I honor you, children._

He would have given anything to say it aloud then.

After the others left, Bulma sat down and attached electrodes to her temples, activating a holographic image transmission. The technology allowed her to "walk the floor" inside of Vegeta's recovery room. Her likeness approached his bedside for a closer look. Vegeta blinked slowly, revealing his sleepiness. Bulma nodded, silently encouraging him to nap if he wanted.

Once Vegeta's eyes closed, Bulma faced the second doctor, a younger man whose stoicism almost matched her husband's on a good day. "I need a sample posthaste, Kenny. At the very least, my sister needs to match any traces left in Vegeta's blood, or any biomarkers left, with the organic matter tracked and recorded from his body suit."

Donovan pushed Kenny back before he could respond. "But—"

"I'm not saying send someone else out to get killed, man!" Bulma snarled. "What about that woman Shana? Since no one has thrown her into a jail cell yet, shouldn't she help? How have people lived so long around the forest – or in it - without being attacked by that monster plant?"

"I am helping," Shana said quietly from a corner. She sounded almost hurt by Bulma's implied accusation of wrongdoing. "Orachids aren't native to Aurora, but we have found ways around them. Besides, they help repel intruders, based on where they thrive."

As tired as he was, Vegeta opened his eyes again. He had forgotten about Shana's presence in the room. He watched Bulma closely as the other woman approached. His wife's lavender-gray hair was tied back, with strands falling along both sides of her temples. She had not been sleeping either, obviously. Dark circles ringed her usually vibrant blue eyes. He wanted to hold her - and scold her. He had not been missing a week yet. She knew the risks. Hell, she encouraged him to take this one. They had overcome enough life-threatening situations to understand each other's expectations.

 _You have to stay healthy, no matter what._   _The kids should be telling you._ They had been fortunate to be alive together and married for this long – and of the two, Vegeta believed her power to create was just as important as his to protect and preserve.

Shana felt like a fish out of water watching Bulma hold court, yet she didn't sense animus or a hint of insecurity directed at her. She, on the other hand, felt jealous. Though exhausted from worry, Vegeta's wife was beautiful and highly intelligent – possibly smarter than her husband. The irony was not lost on Shana, who also found some amusement.  _He actually married someone he couldn't dominate. Of course he would. Bastard. She probably rescued his surly ass more than once._

Bulma raised her eyebrow as Shana gracefully stood as straight as a board.  _For all of his bullshit, my husband sure does know how to pick women_.  _Bastard._   _She's gorgeous and smart enough to keep him alive - and preserve some of his nervous system function. Geez, I wonder who THAT sounds like?_

She frowned at Vegeta's vital sign monitor. "It's OK, honey. Stop resisting natural sleep. You need that."

Kenny cleared his throat, sensing rising tension between the other three – or maybe his own. "Sir, you must rest, especially now, until the spasm frequency is less erratic and your pain is better controlled. We will make sure your physical therapy is attuned to your needs until you return to Earth."

 _"They are correct,"_  Shana said telepathically.  _"Remember what I said. You will continue to have these spells for a while, despite recovering in other ways."_  
  
_"One more word from any of you, and I'll die right here out of spite,"_ Vegeta grumbled irritably. His good-cop routine lacked the gravitas he desired, clearly.  _"Fussing over me now won't help. I've been a fighter my entire life with powers inconceivable to most others. I will be fine. It is in your best interest not to provoke my wife while you're still on board this ship – or anyone else, for that matter."_

" _I can take care of myself, Prince Vegeta. I have been a free spirit longer than you've had that v-shaped hairline on your forehead."_

Bulma's eyes darted between them. " _Quiet,_ Vegeta. I adore you more than most aliens, but whatever you're saying about me telepathically is probably exaggerated. Besides, we don't have much time left before our communication link ends. Shana, you are welcome to stay on board for as long as you'd like while my husband recovers. Would you do that for me, please?"

 _For her?_ Confused and guarded, Shana looked down at Vegeta, whose hardening gaze fixed on his wife. He accepted leaving the rest to her, whatever the hell she had planned.  
_  
"It's better that you do stay,"_ he said. _"You are an emissary. We came here to help - and as much as I hate to admit, in my current condition I still need yours._

After a lengthy pause, Shana nodded at Bulma. "Your mate says I'm an emissary, which I suppose is appropriate. Cellini culture is matriarchal, of which I'm sure you are aware. While I recognize your desire to help now, much time has passed since Frieza ruled. We guard our way of life and decisions fiercely."

Perhaps more than Vegeta ever would, as a woman Bulma understood her hesitance. "No one seeks to change how you live. However, we do offer sustainable support in other ways. One of your own people encouraged it. As a scientist, I have spent most of my adulthood working to protect my home. Your suspicion is warranted, but…"

Shana extended her arm to stop Bulma's appeal. "Our leadership is intact, and I have no desire to request their support to make Aurora anyone's waystation  _again_. Other mortals here live by  _our_ rules, and trust me, there are numerous ways to ensure that continues. I told Vegeta this, as well."

"The orachids, you mean?"

Before they could continue, the monitor next to Vegeta's bedside blared. His face was flushed and sweaty as the doctors approached on opposite sides. His blood pressure had skyrocketed.

Bulma felt her heart drop watching the scene unfold. She had to get him home. What if he didn't recover as fast as either she or Vegeta believed he would eventually?

Shana calmly walked to the foot of the bed, placing her hand on his leg. " _Where does it hurt?"_

_"Bulma…"_

_"Listen to my voice, Vegeta. She is still here. See?"_

_"Can't. Dizzy. Head hurts so much."  
_

Bulma's hologram walked next to Shana. "What's he saying?"

"He's asking for you. Say what you need to him quickly. Doctors, help him please. He says his head hurts a great deal."

"I love you," Bulma said softly. "Come on, commander. This is child's play. You always say that. You've fought until your last breaths so many times that I've stopped counting."

"He says he loves you." Shana had lied to her. Vegeta had not responded, but seeing the pain in Bulma's eyes… she knew intimately how that felt. "There are things I can do. I will stay by his side. You must know that I did not intend for this to happen. No one did. He is the last person I would…I would…"

She hadn't asked for this. Tears welled, which was the last thing she wanted. No matter how hurt, even when friends and loved ones had died, she rarely cried. Feeling humiliated, she moved back.  _I must hold myself together. No one will see me break. No one._   _Bulma must know by now that... damn him._   _Damn me. Damn all of it!_   _I asked if he would return._  

Kenny, the doctor, didn't look up as he injected Vegeta's arm with nitroglycerin. "I have seen this before, Dr. Brief. For whatever reason, his autonomic nervous system has become overactive. The drug dosage he's receiving now should lower his blood pressure.  _All of us_   _will stay by his side_."

Kenny directed that nuanced message to Shana more than Bulma. Proximity gave his psionic abilities free rein, allowing him to see through the woman's careful composure. As an empath, he wondered if Vegeta recognized her love for him. But the prince's overall emotional state always had been enigmatic – a brick wall, really. That was by design, and not many could do it well. Something invidious violated the prince's mind once, Kenny suspected, and Vegeta must have vowed to never let it happen again. He revealed all of himself only to Bulma and, to a lesser degree, their children.

xxxxOOOxxxx

Bulma closed her eyes and sighed after Vegeta finally fell asleep an hour later. Her mind returned to scientific inquiry as Shana re-entered and followed her hologram to the opposite end of the room.

"We have another four hours of contact on the ship tomorrow."

Shana nodded. "I will continue telling you what I know to help - and, of course, assisting this ship's team with other activities once I have permission. My other comments about Aurora's independence stand."

"Fine. Let's start with how  _you_  became immune to a toxin this volatile."

"I did not…"

Bulma shook her head. "Oh, for fucks sake, woman! I'm not an idiot. What did the hell did you do? Experiment on yourself? Poisonous flora have killed or harmed other life forms across ecosystems for eons. You can't destroy them all – or should, in my opinion - but this brought my husband down terribly. I fear his baseline recovery now will peak and flatten much quicker than it should."

Shana paused to restrain her annoyance. She didn't appreciate being barked at like this. "Yes, well, I said some side effects could last for months, but the first days are crucial and my treatment stabilized him. Vegeta could've been comatose and paralyzed for weeks, like some others who were affected."

Bulma raised her arm in front of a chalkboard. "That's not good enough. His body's rejuvenation ability has been exceptional, even for a Saiyan. I want that trajectory to continue along the y-axis. Neither of us will accept anything less."

"So be it. Is there anything else?"

Bulma clasped her hands behind her back and replied, "Well, yeah. How are you holding up? It's not easy seeing someone you love like this - and gods help us all, Vegeta is a handful. I can only imagine the cursing when he woke up in your medical compound."

Shana was mortified. _This woman is crazy._  
  
"You cannot be serious about having this conversation."

Bulma smiled with wisdom. "Try me."

* * *

**Notes: Some of you asked how Bulma would react to Shana's presence. Well, Dr. Brief hasn't been known to mince words, before and after meeting Vegeta. There's no way she's stopping now. She has work to do! Thanks so much for reading! Please take a moment to leave a comment.**


	4. Awash With Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma, appearing as a hologram on the space ship, has decided to confront Vegeta's former lover about the past. Both are in a race to help the prince recover from his near-fatal poisoning.

Bulma had thrown down the gauntlet audaciously, challenging the other woman to open up to her. Recalling Vegeta's acute hearing, Shana quickly waved her hand to create a sound barrier in the room. She purposely allowed Bulma to see enough of the hazy partition, expressing her displeasure over being confronted.

"What are you doing?"

After glancing backward again, Shana angrily responded, "Something that I  _shouldn't_ have to do - and you damned well know why. How  _dare_ you mock me in this manner? Your mate would surely be…"

"Angry?" Bulma asked calmly. "Highly uncomfortable, perhaps. Regardless, that disagreement would be between Vegeta and me. I have touched a nerve, apparently."

"And you share his penchant for spiteful provocation, apparently. How  _charming_."

"It all depends on the day," Bulma replied as she checked the time. "This isn't one of them. Bottom line is your feelings for Vegeta must not cloud your judgment. That's why I asked."

"Is that what this is about? You believe I would allow resentment that you  _assume_  I have over your relationship to override my common sense? Rubbish. You requested that I stay, and I agreed. Whatever second thoughts I had earlier are gone."

"Good." Bulma's question had been double-barreled, like most of her pointed queries. "That's part one of clearing the air."

"Dare I ask what part two entails?"

"Understanding that, as his wife, I am comfortable saying what Vegeta cannot. He... cared for you. I want you to know that."

Before dissolving the sound barrier, Shana turned to the door and said, "Vegeta let me know under no uncertain terms where we stood as soon as he regained consciousness. As his mate, you should be more than comfortable that I pose no threat."

"I have said my piece," Bulma replied.

Shana stayed silent for a moment, further considering the other woman's words. "If I may ask, how old are your children?"

"Trunks is twenty-three. Bulla is nine."

"Are they more like you or their father?"

"That's a tough call, really. Both of them are much nicer, though."

Shana smiled. "I got that impression. They are a fine-looking pair."

Satisfied with her attempt to build rapport, Bulma replied, "I will broadcast into the lab in two days. Bye." She didn't ask about her husband's condition again. She needed some hugs from their kids now.

Afterward, Shana walked alongside Vegeta, whose body was now submerged in an enclosed chamber filled with a cloudy gelatinous fluid. Beyond his muscular form and oxygen-mask-covered face, nothing else was visible. A throbbing, pressured pain weighed on her abdomen as her fingers sprawled across the chamber's reinforced fiberglass cover. She had overexerted herself over the past few days and now the side effects had caught up with her. She took short breaths until the aching diminished.

Bulma had been correct that Shana was immune to the orachid toxin, mostly, and had experimented on herself to accomplish it. But Shana suspected that the determined scientist had something in mind that probably would not help Vegeta recover any faster than his body could tolerate. Regardless, anything too fast could kill him outright, she theorized, given the breath of his powers as described to her. But Shana's skills were those of a master-level botanist, not an engineer or doctorate-level biochemist or geneticist. Her medical proficiency was born of necessity, but she had resolved to do everything she could now that Vegeta's full recovery seemed uncertain. She knew this was more than about her feelings. The cross, hardened man she once knew and loved had gone above and  _beyond_  to be decent – and, after a lifetime of deprivation, had achieved his goals as heir to the Saiyan throne.

Unbeknownst to her, Vegeta awakened briefly as Shana turned to leave. His mind was foggy, but her slower, shakier gait had caught his attention. His head moved left, attempting to focus long enough to reach her telepathically, but the treatment chamber's fluid had been infused with medications to regulate homeostasis within his body and sedate him after the painful episode earlier.

_"Shana, wait..."_

His eyes fluttered as the door shuttered with a hush. Recessed lights dimmed further on both sides of the chamber, while the fluid warmed enough to lull him back to sleep.

**oooXXXXooo**

For now, having the ship abort its mission wasn't an option.

Bulma put on her lab coat after briefly glancing at a new model of Vegeta's body suit. Her forehead bore a tight bundle of wrinkles from prolonged, strenuous thought. She disliked having limited options and could be just as grumpy as Vegeta about it. But as long as he was stable and in less pain, and as the doctors adjusted their techniques to support him, patient rationality would guide her actions.

Yet, like any concerned spouse, she wanted him with her. Goku, who long ago had mastered space teleportation, had been on retreat at a secluded location for months. Contacting him now was next to impossible, and moving Vegeta that way in this condition might do more harm than good, she thought.

She and Capsule Corp's private research team, guided by Tights, spent several hours examining a virtual toxicology model of orachid sap in its denatured form, comparing it against any possible changes in Vegeta's blood composition or DNA, using images sent from the ship. After their review, Tights kissed her sister's cheek, offering reassurance before Bulma opened communication with the ship. Her hologram approached Kenny from behind.

"He's been silent since you last saw him, Dr. Brief. No telepathy. Little eye contact. I know he's introverted and keeps his own counsel, but this behavior troubles me."

"And I understand your desire to help, Kenny, but Vegeta withdraws like this when he really, really needs to. Consider it meditation. He doesn't shut down or dwell in darkness long. Not like he once…" Bulma blinked rapidly as her words trailed off. "Just trust that I know better than anyone."

"Stop…stop…whispering."

Bulma managed to lower her giddiness as they walked to Vegeta's bed. Relieved, she smiled at him with a soft, affectionate optimism. True to form, the prince's mouth curved into a crooked, impish smirk.

"You had this planned all day, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he said proudly. "Back…to work, princess. But you…you  _need_  sleep."

Bulma scowled dramatically, poking fun at her husband's scolding, before breaking into laughter. "Excellent. I shall follow orders soon enough, commander. By the way, you rotten scoundrel, did you hear everything just now?"

"Not…  _telling_  you," Vegeta said as his eyes scanned the room. "Shana? Where?"

Sensing Bulma's mild discomfort, Kenny interrupted. "Are you hungry? We can try pureed vegetables."

 _"No baby food,"_ Vegeta said telepathically. " _Stop interfering, pretty boy. I don't care who, but I want someone to cough up an answer to my question."_

The rightward shift of Bulma's jawline revealed her irritation. She had expected Vegeta to trust that she eventually would integrate him into her plans at the right time – which it wasn't. "Shana and I are meeting in the 3-D lab, Vegeta. I'll have an easier time doing what's necessary."

Vegeta's eyes returned to Kenny. " _She can discuss my condition with Shana while I'm present."_

"He wants to be there while you and our Celini visitor discuss next steps, Dr. Brief."

"No." Bulma shook her head. "You have to trust me. I'll tell you everything afterward."

"Not about…about trust…trusting you, Bulma. Something is…wrong."

Kenny looked at the door and both sides of Vegeta's bed. "Has Shana done something improper that we should know about?"

" _If she has, then my presence is more than justified,"_ Vegeta said as he stubbornly pulled himself up in bed. " _My right arm is functional, as you can see now."_ He also had been bathing in painkillers for the past two days. He felt ashamed, though he shouldn't have.

Numerous times Bulma witnessed him bruised and weakened, thrown on the ground and completely drained, suffering from fractures and puncture wounds that would've bled out and killed anyone else. All the while, with proper treatment, his genetics, determination, and mysticism won. Disfiguring scars faded within days. Awe-inspiring acrobatics reached new heights, and the power bursting from his fingertips rivaled kais. The couple had been through hell and back enough times that they shared jokes over it, but the thought of Vegeta losing his abilities altogether and living the rest of his days in pain?

Never a consideration.

Now the prince was scared – a rare occurrence - and that broke his wife's heart.

"Kenny, leave us for a moment please."

"But how will you communicate, Dr. Brief?" Kenny felt both annoyed and embarrassed after the couple gave him a withering look, like he was an idiot.  _Amazing_ , he thought.  _Did they just forget that I have been their telepathic mailman for the last ten minutes? I can never get a break around here._

Bulma nodded knowingly at her husband. "We'll work it out. Isn't that right, tough guy?"

"I have…no…no choice," Vegeta replied drolly.

Kenny tucked his clipboard beneath his arm. "I'll tell Shana to meet you in the lab."

Now that they were alone, Vegeta recalled Shana's hazy image and strange behavior from the other night. "Be careful with...with her, Bulma."

"Shana is no shrinking violet, honey, but she is vulnerable. We talked while you slept in the chamber two days ago. What was I supposed to do? Allow the dinosaur in the room to sit?"

"Yes."

"Nonsense! We can't afford to have anyone's unresolved, two-decade old feelings stomping all over the place, both for your welfare and hers – and, by extension, this planet's. I'll be damned if everyone comes away empty handed after all of this drama."

"Not 'feelings,' woman. Love."

Watching Vegeta's attempt to further decode her intentions, Bulma paused and said, "I know. You expected awkwardness if you two met again. Of course it's uncomfortable, but we're all adults here. The upside is Shana and I can read our angst-ridden diaries now about our crushes on you."

"Not funny. Don't lie to…to me." Vegeta loosened his grip on the bed rail. Bulma almost seemed too comfortable with the situation, he thought, beyond their mutual confidence in their relationship.

"I'm OK, honey. Really."

"Hn."

"Most guys would be pleased not to have a jealous wife. You can't have it both ways."

Of course, the prince was in a class by himself. Bulma had married the most extreme outlier from "most guys," a man who once carried emotional baggage the diameter of the Milky Way. Though Vegeta felt more convinced that his wife was in denial about certain feelings than intentionally lying to him, he reluctantly accepted that pressing her harder now could lead to a dead end.

"I'm tired. Damn…damn this."

Bulma exhaled wearily as she observed his vital signs. "I know you are, handsome. I know, and I'm so sorry. It's like you had a stroke, but these new developments are good. Your breathing has improved and you can talk. I wish I could be there with you. Can you summon any power? Anything?"

"No."

"OK, are we done arguing for no reason now? I have work to do, as you growled earlier."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "What…whatever."

"I love you." Bulma snickered watching his  _adorable_  eyeball pout. She also felt grateful, recalling when Vegeta felt most secure behind an almost impenetrable mask. Hurt, pain, fear, passion, hope, and even love resided beneath those frozen, contemptuous eyes, but once they lifted the mask together…

She often found humor in the bittersweet absurdities of their long union. Doing so kept her grounded.

Vegeta looked away as Bulma laughed softly. In his heart, having her smile and laugh next to him, privately and ridiculously, for the entire four hours would've been just fine.

"Go…go away, woman."

"I'll return to harass you later. We'll get through this."

"Promise?"

Bulma had been on the other side of hope and expectation with him so  _many_  times. Awash with memories, she choked back a sudden urge to cry. "Of course. I promise."

**ooooXXXXoooo**

Shana felt exhausted but waited patiently in the lab. Bulma's unapologetic honesty and empathy had left a strong impression after they first talked. Shana didn't want to like her, but Vegeta's wife reminded her of other strong Celini women she admired.

"You have not slept."

Bulma waved off the concern. "I'm fine. I'll sleep when I'm dead. You don't look much better either. We both need to keep it together, you know?"

"So you put on a good face for Vegeta, I take it?"

"Yes, but it doesn't really matter if I do. At this point in our relationship, he always knows. We have to pick our battles."

Shana lowered her head at the hologram, acknowledging the truism. "Hm. You both stopped keeping count of them too, it appears."

"Wise woman, you are. Let's get started. I have some stuff to show you, just for context, and introductory questions based on the information you provided to others on the ship. Afterward, to make best use of scheduling, we can communicate on time delay as my sister and I continue working."

"So you're saying I am free to leave soon, but it's clear that your team must stay on Aurora for a while."

"I am hoping we can do as much as possible remotely. We've assembled an accomplished group. I must trust that my husband can be helped there for now. Have you spoken with others?"

"Yes. I have sent regular updates to Celini representatives. Your crew has been kind to me and others they met when Vegeta returned to the ship. I know he asked them to be, despite his crossness with me at first. There will be more conversations."

Bulma smothered a small grin spreading across her lips. This was a good development. Multicolored 3-D images of quadruple and double helices soon descended from the lab's ceiling, followed by pictures of an orachid specimen and another plant Shana didn't recognize.

Shana slowly walked around the images. "They're beautiful in their own ways, aren't they?"

Bulma snorted cynically at the observation. "Yeah, well, my sister and I liked using watercolor paints as children. Anyway, on Earth a plant called hemlock affects humans poisoned by it similarly, but it must be ingested first - and it does not attack, unlike orachids. There are no rage-filled ivy plants on my planet with similar properties. Over time, our science has found practical uses for hemlock despite its toxicity. We're also really good at keeping unlucky people alive. We're comparing orachid genetic sequencing to the hemlock's double helix and looking for any similarities in toxic alkaloids. We'll cross-reference against other plants from other planets but, for now, it doesn't hurt to start like this."

"If a human or animal lives, does exposure to hemlock leave lasting physical damage?"

"It can, but nothing on the scale of what we're dealing with here. How did you discover you were immune? Was I correct? Did you really experiment on yourself?"

"I  _made_  myself immune, Bulma, as much as I could. I suppose I might be an oddity among my people - and probably others."

"So you really did engage in mithridatism? How in the hell did you consume small quantities of this toxin over time without close monitoring to keep you alive? That's just so random and dangerous."

"With some help, I was able to use my knowledge and save lives. That's as far as I could take it. You are married to Vegeta, which means you fully understand what it means to sacrifice. But unlike me, you were able to reach him in a way that I couldn't. You are worthy of…"

"Don't do that," Bulma said. "Please, just don't. I was  _worthy_  before I met that man. All truth told, if you asked him, Vegeta would say he wasn't close to being worthy  _of me_. I loved him, and he battled the ugliest, most tortured parts of himself for years. I supported him as best as I could, and I chose not to be a tragic character either. He also had choices to make. In the beginning, my newborn son and I weren't highest on his list, until he finally trusted later that loving us was OK - and felt safe. He had done terrible things, and terrible things were done to him, and yet there was so much good in him."

Shana was unresponsive.

Bulma sighed. "I know our experiences are different. I am not offering pity. It's clear that you're a proud woman. I just wanted to say I remember seeing Vegeta at his worst and how it felt to be left by him."

Shana moved between the plant images to face her. "Yes, and the man I loved never returned. Later, because of the great plague on Aurora, a good Celini man who fathered a child with me died, along with my father and sister. My daughter died too. That's why I tried the experiment. What else could I lose? On the other side, others had sickened or died terribly from the orachids. The risk I took angered our healers when I told them, but I was able to help both Celini and those allied with us, though treatments have worked imperfectly. Now, as fate has it, I am… dying from something else."

"Oh my god." Bulma stared at her in shock.

"With good care I have about a year left, according to the chief healer of the compound where we treated Vegeta. As you see, my strength has held up well. I am quite fortunate."

"Yes, but…"

"I don't  _want_  any more help, Bulma. I don't fear death. I welcome the peace it will bring for me eventually. Use what you can learn from me now to support the organic data your team collected here for other purposes. I have my own records. However, as I said earlier, I won't make an appeal to Celini leaders for the ambitious plans you came here with. They are willing to meet, though."

"I assume you don't want Vegeta to know yet that you're ill."

"I hope you can respect my wishes. Indeed, I am a proud woman – and you are an honorable one."

* * *

**Notes: Bulma didn't realize at first how much this situation would dig up old feelings about her early days with Vegeta. She recognizes how lonely it can be on the other side, as Shana is now. However, she's also establishing boundaries carefully for all of their future interactions. The wild card in this is, as always, Vegeta. Please take a moment to leave a comment, and thank you for reading! Thanks again to everyone who left feedback earlier. It really helped!**


	5. That's Another Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulna and Shana, Vegeta's former lover, have forged a bond over their respective relationships with the prince. Now, a month later and still away from home, Vegeta is confronted with news about next steps to address his condition, among other concerns.

Vegeta had been brooding most of the day, wondering when Bulma would check in. His intuition told him that bad news was on the horizon. Preparing himself for it, however, proved harder than he thought it should have been. Bad news had haunted the trajectory of his life, with wonderful breaks in between: loving his wife and children, being snatched from death's grasp, finding meaning in his life beyond selfishness and sadness. But his melancholy whispered ominously that he was overdue for another comeuppance.

A chime rang within his room, signaling communication from Earth. To his chagrin, the visitor wasn't his wife. Instead, a blonde-haired woman dressed in a pink cashmere sweater and jeans appeared onscreen. Her blue eyes were striking but also more serious than her sister's ever would be.

Tights' blank-faced stare confirmed Vegeta's concerns. Both braced for the undertow as best as their staid, determined minds could. Vegeta's speaking abilities remained shaky, so he used a sensor in his cheek and a brain-controlled interface to communicate better. The automated voice almost sounded as rich and husky as his own, but he disliked using it.

"You look like hell."

Amused, Tights looked down and smiled. "Well, hello to you too, brother-in-law. I could say the same for you. That tone of voice sounds good on you, though."

Vegeta actually liked exchanging witty barbs with her. She reminded him of Bulma in that way, which felt somewhat comforting then. "Where is your sister?"

"Resting. The kids and I insisted."

Vegeta frowned. "She's ill?"

"She won't be as long as she stays down for a while. You know how Bulma is when she's determined."

"And what about you? You are leading the research team to help me."

"I am exhausted, Vegeta, but I also am not married to you. I have some emotional distance, you know?"

"You just don't like me as much, Tights. That's all."

Tights laughed as she attached electrodes to her temples. "You are hopeless. I can tolerate you better now. You have grown on me over the years - like skin bacteria. That's all you're getting today, old man."

"That's not true," Vegeta said quietly. "And remember, you're older than I am, granny." He could tell she was on the verge of crying when her hologram appeared in his room. Of all the women he had encountered over a lifetime, seeing this testicle-crushing hellcat almost in tears  _over him_ felt particularly unsettling.

""You're right," Tights said as she neared him. "It's not true. There is more. I'm… I'm sorry."

"About  _what_?" Vegeta felt his insides tense. "Spit it out."

"Our preliminary tests indicate that your contact with the orachid toxin, or the first treatment your Celini caretakers gave to keep you alive, appears to have altered your DNA."

"Appears to? What _the hell_  does  _that_  mean? You're saying these changes have spread like some kind of blood cancer?! That's… that's insane. It's…" He paused, staring past her to regain self-control as visions of old enemies flooded his psyche, all laughing at him.

Watching the prince's eyes grow ice cold and emotionless worried Tights. Unlike many others, she never had seen anything like it up close. Perhaps she made a mistake by not waiting for Bulma, knowing Vegeta's remarkable talent for observing the smallest details.

"I wouldn't describe it like that exactly," she continued, "but you are on the right path. It appears your body has had a sustained systemic inflammatory response to the trauma. The best we can do is keep you on heavy doses of immunosuppressant drugs until…"

"Your  _excuses_  are unacceptable," Vegeta snarled. "How dare you appear while I'm in this condition, offering  _nothing_. Look at me. It's been a month now. You said these were preliminary tests?"

"Yes, Vegeta, and all I'm saying is it may take much, much longer to nail down a solution. I believe your Saiyan genetic structure, with its unique attributes, made you more susceptible to these changes. You would be angrier if I offered hope for a broader recovery than what our data show is possible right now - and, like you, as a specialist, I bullshit no one. You and Bulma must understand what we're facing."

"Damn it, do your job and keep my wife hopeful  _enough._ " An aching dullness filled Vegeta's chest as he thought about her. His eyes settled on Tights again, appreciating the woman's measured response to his frustration. "Bulma needs hope as much as I do, and I don't want her blaming herself for urging me to come here. Beyond that, you know what's at stake if I don't regain any of my powers. I have heard enough now. I just...need to be alone."

"Vegeta, please…"

"You and your gifted mind will receive my gratitude once you've pursued every avenue to cure me - full steam – which means you will come close to killing me in order to do it.  _That's how this works_. Got it?"

Tights stopped to ponder his words. Perhaps she had misunderstood. Was he saying that he would rather die if his desired solution were unattainable? No. Her thinking felt muddled. She also needed rest.

Annoyed, Vegeta inhaled. "What, Tights?" She meant well, but he needed solitude.

She nodded toward the main view screen, which illumined with images of DNA strands. "I transferred more files to the ship. You have access on your computer tablet. Summaries of our inconclusive results are on the first page. The key word is inconclusive _._ "

"I heard you the first time," Vegeta said, lightening the mood with a grouchy tease. "Then I can work backward to see the steps."

Tights nodded. "Yes, or jump around between sections and images. You may not understand all of the jargon."

"Don't underestimate me."

Tights turned her back as her hologram faded. "Forgive me. From now on, I will offer the courtesy of completely trusting in your willpower as much as you believe in my skills."

"Hn. Take the lead now – all of it. My wife is too close."

"I'll do what I can. All of the Brief women are stubborn, and we're all looking after Bulma."

The mocking laughter that assaulted Vegeta's mind earlier returned. His toughest enemies all had dramatic streaks: Frieza, Cooler, Cell, Babadi, Kid Buu. This adversary was no different. He had been walking, but only with help from artificial intelligence using his brain waves to stimulate leg movements – a much slower method than using a wearing a robotic exoskeleton, which he refused to do.

As an athlete, he knew starting slowly was the correct method for retraining and building strength, but his anger got the better of him. He had used medical rejuvenation tanks numerous times during his tenure with Frieza, but his condition didn't arise from direct physical injury.

_This is ridiculous! I have been through hell, and this is what gets me in the end?! This?! Bullshit! Not even the Dragon Balls or Dende can help me now._ He knew neither would have been able to help him anyway, but he was  _the prince_. He had reclaimed his honor many times over and choked on his blood more often than any sane person should. But Saiyans' philosophical beliefs about sanity were fluid: Opponents' strengths and weaknesses guided the degree of strategic insanity applied to defeat them.

Vegeta ripped off the electrodes monitoring vital signs and the AI stimulator for his legs. Equipment crashed on the floor as he struggled to move. He would get up and walk on his own, as he had done with every brutal beating and insult his body took for close to fifty years. No implants. No computer chips. No cybernetic suits.  _He was the machine_.

Then he fell, and it felt like all those decades of pain converged as he lay on the floor.

His body seized. Then he blacked out.

* * *

Hours later, Vegeta awakened bleary-eyed and stoic. After observing him, Kenny tapped on his medical tablet, transcribing notes.

Shana sat next to the immersion chamber where his body was submerged. "That was foolish, what you did earlier. You have the finest technology at your disposal and the best researchers. But  _your_   _pride_  always has been your albatross, Vegeta."

He didn't look at her. He also wasn't inclined to use the AI again for speaking. Maybe later.

Kenny said nothing as he walked the length of the chamber, checking on various controls until his eyes finally locked with Vegeta's. The furious doctor had the upper hand, but he knew the prince would not back down. They would live to fight another day. He washed his hands, looked at Shana, and walked out.

The cerebral force of Vegeta's telepathic connection felt like a cross punch to Shana's senses. That was intentional. Her eyebrows rose briefly from shock and anger. Then she gave him a scorching glare.

"Nice try. That's all you have?"

_"Get out."_ Vegeta shut his eyes. Too many memories. Too much humiliation. _"Get out! Get out!"_

"No." Shaking with emotion, Shana drove her right arm into the fluid and held his hand. "Not this time."

_"I should have never come here."_

"But you did."

_"I did you a favor by leaving back then. That was my gift. I was rotten."_

"You weren't rotten, Vegeta."

A faint, disdainful smirk appeared on his paled face. " _Oh, you never saw it up close, woman. My wife, well, that's another story."_

"Bulma said there were difficulties."

_"Did she? Ah, I see now. Interesting. Look into my eyes."_  
  
Shana felt a jolt as Vegeta's memory flashbacks entered her mind. She had no idea that he had this ability. Their irises faded to white.

She saw a gory battle between Vegeta, clad in battle armor, and a gentle-faced Saiyan man dressed in modest clothing. Then she watched Vegeta take his "Great Ape" form during the fight, gleefully laying waste to everything nearby. Another memory showed him killing Zarbon and Dodoria mercilessly. Then she saw an eerily calm Frieza beating an already severely injured Vegeta into a broken, demoralized mess - before blowing a gaping hole through the prince's chest.  He had been crying before that final blast.

Gasping from stunned disgust and sadness, Shana covered her mouth with her free hand.  _How could he have lived through that?_

A terrifying green monster appeared in another memory. The scaly, towering creature delivered a fatal blow to a teenager resembling Vegeta and Bulma's eldest child, Trunks, while a much-younger Vegeta watched in horror. But how could that be?

Finally, an earlier recollection showed Frieza's sadistic punishment of a little Saiyan boy, the crown prince of an extinct race. There Vegeta stopped, blinking slowly at the woman next to him.  _"There is much more I will never show. Don't play with Bulma's emotions, Shana, because I will make you pay for it, in one way or another."_

Despite his curtness, Shana also noticed he wasn't fighting her hand's grip. "I have had enough of this phony aggression," she replied. "Stop fighting with yourself… and with me. Yes, I have my feelings, but I accept what happened between us and why. Thank you for giving me the gift of my life. I see clearly that Bulma helped you achieve your goals with bravery. I witness that unspoken story when you look at her. It is loving and incredibly powerful."

_"Then respect my gift by choosing to live longer."_  
  
Shana released his hand. "What?"

_"I may not have all of my powers, but I know what a death wish looks like – or, more so, what it feels like."_  
  
"Damn you," Shana said disapprovingly. "You tricked me."

_"I never forget anyone's ki imprint, or how it feels when things aren't right. I just needed confirmation because I am not at my strongest. Not only did you experiment on yourself recklessly, but now you are sick from something else and not receiving help for it. Am I right?"_

"Rubbish." Shana crossed her arms. "You didn't know who I was when I first treated you. Focus on getting better, Vegeta, and don't flatter yourself into believing that I have spent years in a long, slow, suicidal march over  _your_  absence from my life, among other reasons. Celini women frown upon martyrdom."

But they both knew he was correct.

_"Most of them do – but, apparently, some are ignoring the obvious instead of calling you out over your martyrdom, so it looks like that job falls to me. Your case is not hopeless and others on Aurora obviously depend on you."_  
  
"You feel no guilt."

_"No, I don't. Never will."_

"Good. You are enough of a nuisance. Your deceitful nastiness and arrogance I can deal with, and I will continue doing as I please. That said, if you put yourself in harm's way again like you did today, don't be so sure that your body will be removed from the floor  _again_."

Vegeta's eyes closed as the immersion chamber infused another round of medication.  _"You can leave now."_ He offered a cocky, half-frowning smirk after Shana patted his cheek and closed the chamber's hood.

Shana took a deep breath before backing away to fasten her cape. As soon as she exited the room, Kenny grabbed her arm. Offended, she glared at him. "What do you think you're doing, doctor?"

His stern, discerning eyes bored deep into hers like a diamond-tipped drill. "Your intentions are good, but now it's time to back off. Vegeta is more emotionally vulnerable than you realize. So are you. You saw what happened to him earlier. I also heard enough on your side of the conversation to understand some things."

"I don't need a lecture from you," Shana replied. "I know his power and strength give him purpose."

"Yes, and I am now overseeing all communication for his recovery, not Donovan. You will go through me if he requests visits from you. I will actively discourage them, but, if he insists, I will limit your time."

Shana didn't take kindly to any man threatening her, especially one half her age. She snatched her arm back and lowered her voice. "Bulma and her sister still need access to me."

Kenny shook his head. "You're not listening.  _All communication goes through me_. You can tell me what they should know until I decide that your physical presence is required. Those visits will be supervised."

"Understood." Shana abruptly turned on her heels. "But I think you might find it harder to exclude me considering those women's personalities, even from afar. They are just as determined to see Vegeta through this as I. Now then, if you will excuse me, I have a meeting to attend."

* * *

**Notes:** **Thank you for sticking with the story! Please take a moment to leave a comment if you can.**


	6. Instant Transmission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap from the last chapter: Vegeta made the unwise decision of going it alone, attempting to do something he could not when his body was in no medical condition to do so. After that borderline disaster, Shana encouraged him to reconsider his motivations. The prince asked Shana to rethink hers, as well, after clearly showing her why he ended their relationship years ago and did not return. However, blind spots are rarely easy to clear.

What Son Goku sensed when he and Bulma arrived on the ship startled him. Rather, he did  _not_ sense what he earnestly hoped would be present. For Bulma's sake, he kept mum. She had enough worries. His abnormal anxiety level over her husband's condition was his to manage alone.

He had known Vegeta a quarter of his adult life – fighting against, for, and with him – and now the man's essence had disappeared. The prince was very much alive, but Goku couldn't identify Vegeta's  _unique_  ki signature. His son, Gohan, privately joked that sensing Vegeta's ki was knowing the difference between expensive wine and cheap beer: Both pack a punch, but only one leaves you admiring the quality.

Thankfully, to teleport to Aurora with Bulma, Goku now could recognize  _any_  Saiyan life force, even if he didn't know the person. He and Vegeta found this out - and were shocked - when they met a previously unknown group of welcoming Saiyans. Years of training had enhanced the men's awareness. Naturally, Vegeta had been the most emotional after the discovery, but only in private with Bulma. Earth was his home, which he loved, but now there were  _others_ beyond him, their children, his younger brother Tarble, and Goku's family. He had considered the possibility, but eventually locked those thoughts away after accepting and fully appreciating his place on Earth.

Knowing his friend well, before they cast eyes on each other, Goku prepared for Vegeta's pride-fueled stoicism. He admired and respected that characteristic; however, the behavior  _in excess_  could frustrate the hell out of anyone.

It went like this for years: "Fuck you, Kakarot!" Incoherent bitching from Vegeta. "Don't tell me what to do!" Lengthy pause after explaining the worst case situation to Vegeta. "Fuck it." Resigned grumbling from Vegeta. " _All right_ , Kakarot." Charming, cocky smile from Vegeta. "Let's do this, and you better keep up with me, fool!"

Goku had his faults too, of course. Vegeta usually had no shortage of curse words when forced to clean up after problems Goku's inattention had caused. The finest trainers had warned Goku throughout his life to avoid being too relaxed during fights, despite being a talented martial artist.

Rivalry always would be intertwined with their brotherhood. Goku hoped Vegeta wouldn't feel ashamed or respond angrily for appearing "weak" in front of him. Both knew that it was Vegeta's Achilles heel.

Bulma cocked her head, wondering why he wasn't following her. "Where are you going, Son?"

Goku shifted his feet, attempting to allay her suspicion - and his discomfort. "I'll join you later."

"But why? Is something wrong? I mean, it's not like he won't know you're here. Vegeta probably sensed us seconds after we arrived."

Maybe, Goku thought, but he was unsure. "Nothing is wrong beyond the obvious reasons we're here." He rarely lied, but he counted on Bulma becoming more distracted the longer she delayed seeing Vegeta. "I just think you should see him first. He needs that, especially after what happened."

"Yes," Bulma said softly. "That was a bad fall he took. Tights knew before anyone else. It may take a while before I am less pissed at her. At least you returned from your retreat at the perfect time."

Goku reached over to embrace her. "You and Vegeta are very protective of each other. I can see why she waited a bit. You work hard all the time and needed rest. She didn't keep the news long. Remember when you were really sick with that… um, I still can't say the name of it right."

"Most folks just call what I had lupus." Bulma glanced at the door, recalling her husband's steady, calming support back then. "Vegeta had been telling me for two years to get a diagnosis after those abnormal symptoms began. We fought about it after I couldn't hide how terrible I felt anymore."

"Illness is not easily hidden from him," Goku replied. "My senses are hit or miss."

"But, you know, when things really went south for me, and the kidney problems started, Vegeta didn't say 'I told you so' when the doctors had to start from scratch to treat me. He was my rock."

"Yeah, because you are his heart," Goku said. "He would never do that anyway. Besides, I'm at the top of his hit list to say 'I told you so' for anything he wants to give me a hard time about. Now go see him."

"All right," Bulma said, watching her childhood friend rub his stomach. "I suppose you're hungry."

Goku's face lit up with excitement. "How did you know?"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Because, silly man, I pay attention to the obvious. Keep that up and you'll have a giant hole through your clothes."

"Oh." Goku flushed, responding with an embarrassed chuckle. "I guess so."

Bulma laughed as they hugged. "Dining rooms are on both sides of the ship. Keep walking ahead and you'll find one. Don't eat everything, please?"

"I'll come back in an hour," Goku said as he wandered away. "And I'll leave enough for Vegeta."  
  
"You know, I try not to speak for him a lot, but..."  
  
"Then don't speak for him then, honey. I have a granddaughter who calls him 'uncle.' We're all family here -- a nutty one. It's still a bit confusing for all of us." 

Bulma made rapid use of a white ribbon to tie her hair into a bun and dabbed on a bit of lipstick before triggering the entryway. Vegeta was sitting quietly on the edge of his bed, alone and facing the opposite end of the room, as she entered. Oddly, she recalled his deep loneliness when he first settled on Earth. It shrouded him like an ascetic's tunic: darkened, austere, and solitary.

He wouldn't go back there, she thought. No one would let him.

Vegeta's head lifted as she approached him from behind.  _"So where's the clown?"_

"Where else would he be?" Bulma said as they both laughed. She had missed having him next to her. "Maybe you'd like to join the feast. At least you can speak with us telepathically now. I want to hear your A.I. voice again, though. Tights says it's sexier up close."

_"Tights calling anything related to me 'sexy' is frightening - and I'm not hungry. The supplements I got today are enough."_

"You're holding out on me." Bulma sat beside him, keeping a keen eye on his movements – or the lack of them. "There's something you want."

 _"Yeah."_ Vegeta looked down, almost appearing shy. " _A kiss, maybe?"_  He felt foolish for thinking that his own wife would be afraid to touch him.

"Gladly," Bulma purred. "I thought you'd never ask, handsome."

 _"Bullshit."_  
  
She touched Vegeta's face, tenderly kissing his forehead and lips. "It's going to be all right. I promised."

Vegeta searched her eyes for uncertainty and found none. She could be remarkably empathetic during his bleakest moments.  _"You…cannot exhaust yourself over me. Your sister is happy to do it instead."_

"So you're OK with driving my poor sister to the grave?" Bulma shook her head and laughed. "I'm not sure if that will help you either."

_"You know what I mean – and there is nothing poor about your sister. Along with everyone else you've gathered, she is capable of doing more than you should be now. We're fortunate that your health has been stable, but..."_

"Will you please stop?" Frowning from confusion and concern, Bulma clasped his hand. "I didn't come here to compete in the illness Olympics with my husband, so let's focus on you. Who knew that some ancestor of mine passed down a genetic trait that made me more prone to lupus after the chemical accident in my lab? I mean, it was a freakish situation."

 _"What does that say, then, about my prognosis?"_ Vegeta asked. " _With you, at least there was some historical data to start with for your immunotherapy treatment – because you are human - and it still took a year for you to regain strength."_

" _And_ , after I started getting better, I still worked and cared for Bulla and encouraged you to care for yourself, as I always have. Our wonderful son helped out, too, if you recall."

They had reached an uncomfortable impasse. After not being in each other's company for so long, neither wanted to argue needlessly or stupidly. Having spent days searching his mind and heart about their family's future, Vegeta felt his chest tighten again. So much of his wife's life had focused on caring for him. It was time to demand less. He would chance an argument anyway. As Bulma looked on, he activated the A.I. to speak aloud and the leg stimulator to walk a short distance.

"We… have a nine-year-old daughter, Bulma. She understands what could happen to me, both as a Saiyan and as one of Earth's protectors – and, now, because of my disability and the riskiness of any treatment involved - because we have prepared her. What Bulla is not ready for is losing both parents yet. Do you understand?"

Bulma thought he was being irrational, but she couldn't figure out why. "Look, I made a  _promise_ when all of this started. I never offer bromides. Your pride wouldn't allow it – or mine. You fell in love with me because of that. Tights may have the lead but I'm _not_  taking a back seat to her or anyone else. Plus, you've been away a hell of a long time to suddenly panic about whether I'm beating you to the grave first. I thought we had put this issue to rest before you set foot on this ship."

A nearby monitor emitted a slow murmur as Vegeta's blood pressure spiked. His eyes settled on her with the hardness of volcanic glass. "Enough, Bulma. It is my wish.  _My wish._  That's all there is to it."

"This is ridiculous," Bulma shouted, "and, no, that's not all there is! I am in no danger, and you  _cannot_  decide arbitrarily about something like this, not after everything we've been through together. We sealed our  _wedding vows_  with a blood bond.  _Ride or die_." She lifted her right sleeve, forcefully exposing a small brand of a Saiyan crest on her shoulder, matching her husband's. "Remember this?"

"Ride or die." Vegeta shook his head. "That is such a human expression."

Bulma blinked back tears.  _Now he's brought up the whole human thing?_ She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "So you're saying I have no honor?"

"Of course not." Vegeta said as he continued walking. "Honor our children by not…"

"By not what?" Bulma walked in front of him, extending her arm. "Tell me."

Vegeta stopped, but he didn't accept her hand. "We have a long road. Neither of us will want to give up finding a cure for me. But what happens if I die again? It's possible. If your own health weakens from stress or worry, it  _will be_  my fault. We were both reckless for taking on this responsibility."

"Speak for yourself, buddy," Bulma said as she marched to the door, grabbing her long coat. "Tell that to the crew on this ship. These guys and gals look up to you. All they know is the person standing in front of them - like me, our children, and Goku and his family."

Bulma crossed her arms as her prince stared at his right arm and the exoskeleton for his legs. Ironically, Vegeta didn't see himself being a martyr. If Shana were there, she'd probably slap him for doing the same thing he lectured her about.

"No more to say?" he asked flatly.

"Yeah, I do," Bulma said, softening her tone. " _Fuck this._  I feel like I'm surrounded by  _victims_. Actually, I seem to be the  _only one_  not feeling sorry for myself. I didn't when you first moved into my home, returning a hot mess every day from your masochistic training. I don't when you fight in unpredictable situations – and, because of who you are, get excited over it. I didn't when I was too sick to leave my bed, with you by my side.  _So there._  Right now I need a walk before I bust a hole through a monitor."

Goku gently grasped Bulma's shoulder from behind before she could move again. "I know I'm interrupting, but…"

"You're not." Briefly startled, Bulma swallowed hard to stop crying. "I'll be in the main lab."

Exasperated and hurt, Vegeta exhaled. "Did you hear anything I said? Anything?"

"Not  _another_ word, from either of you," Bulma snapped. "Not one."

" _Let her go, Kakarot,"_  Vegeta said telepathically.  _"She's still very tired. You can see that. You and Tights shouldn't have let her come like this."_

Goku looked at Bulma again. "Um, maybe you should get some food first, like you told me to before. I know you're mad at him, but, I mean, don't you guys have a blowout argument almost every six months now? Chi Chi says you do."

Bulma wiped her tears and laughed. "Your wife's mouth is like a leaky faucet."

"She says my mouth is bigger. Vegeta agrees. Anyway, get outta here. You do need to cool off."

* * *

Goku's smile vanished as soon as Bulma exited. His sharp eyes quickly took stock of the equipment surrounding Vegeta and scanned across his friend's physique, searching for signs of muscle wasting.

"Yes, it's exactly what you suspected," Vegeta said, using his computerized voice. "There's nothing."

"We know that's not all true," Goku replied somberly. "I wouldn't be here if that were the case. I just sense you differently. It's weird. Are you in pain?"

"What  _do you_  think?" Vegeta said as his eyes lowered. "I'm sure you've heard every last detail, except for my pebble-sized shits and optional choice to pee in a bag. They let me pick the colors, too, at least."

Goku nodded back at the door. "Bulma really doesn't understand. That's what you're thinking, isn't it?"

Vegeta stared with genuine confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I probably would be angrier than you are right now, Vegeta. Your power core is missing.  _The source_. This is completely different from anything we know."

Vegeta smirked. "Perhaps my anger doesn't run as deep as you think. I am not yelling at you yet."

"Oh?" Goku's giant hands shot up, slamming together at their wrists. A medium-sized energy sphere flashed between his fingers. "You can't call me a fool this time."

"You  _asshole_ ," Vegeta hissed, reflexively lifting his right arm for combat. His palm was erect, with fingers evenly outstretched. His breaths trembled as no power emerged. "This… this…this is no game! Why are you taunting me?!"

"I'm not," Goku replied, lowering his hands. "I speak as one who understands the mental trap you could fall into, just like Bulma does." He tapped his temple and looked at the ceiling. "I'm trying to remember a word my son uses. Ah yes.  _Corrosive_ , like acid eating away at your insides."

"Don't play amateur psychiatrist with me," Vegeta retorted. Then he looked away. "I remember…when that part of myself dominated my actions. No one should worry about that - especially you.  _Especially you._ "

Goku sighed. "Look, just don't push Bulma away. She is going to do what she does. If you think Tights will stop her, then think again. She may be more serious, but Bulma is the forceful sister. Whatever your wife does, the other will follow. She can't sit on her hands – especially with you and the kids. She hasn't with anyone she's cared for her entire life, really."

"This is different, Kakarot."

"How?"

Feeling unfairly attacked, Vegeta unleashed a tart-tongued punch. "If you haven't figured that out by now, then ask  _your wife_  what happened with your sons emotionally – and to her own spirit - when you weren't around all those years. She might enlighten you."

Goku's teeth gritted from anger. He had almost forgotten Vegeta's incisive talent for igniting others' innermost insecurities. That unpleasant behavior had Frieza's footprint all over it. "You have  _no room_  to judge me, for endless reasons, so I'm letting that one pass."

"Or what?" Vegeta said sarcastically. "Beat up a defenseless man? Give me a moment to fasten my oxygen mask."

Goku waited. No conversation like this would end without Vegeta considering their bond.

"You are my friend," he replied firmly, "and I am yours, Vegeta. Coming from me, you know I don't pity anything about you, even when you've been an ass. You are far from defenseless, too. You're just uncertain about what happens next."

Vegeta felt the same chest tightness from earlier. Even now, intense emotion could trigger a threat response from his body and mind, but there was no threat. He fought his desire to shut down. Goku had won that battle so far.

"Kakarot, I have leaned heavily on my wife's talents and inner strength since I met her. We know might happen now. I could get better or worse, or something will kill me in the process. You were wrong earlier, too. I know how much Bulma understands my loss, and that's the issue. She absolutely cannot let it run her. This mission here on Aurora can continue without us, as well."

Goku scratched his head, thinking of another way to get through. He hadn't heard his friend speak like this in recent memory. The prince, at his bravest and regal, often gave  _him_  the courage to continue when the stakes were high: "You fight, Kakarot," he would say with a tight, confident nod. "You  _fight_." Whether Vegeta shouted or whispered, afterward Goku  _knew_  he had to bring the house down.

"Look, I know it's hard for you to listen to me sometimes, but..."

"No." Vegeta shook his head for Goku to stop. "I am sorry. I am sorry. Please accept the apology. It's just…you have no idea how frustrating it is, after how I have lived, to approach the edges of doubt again like this."

"I don't?" Goku raised his eyebrow skeptically. "Really?  _Wow._  You're giving me way more credit than I thought you ever would in this lifetime, big guy."

"Fuck you." Vegeta returned to bed, with his back to Goku. "Just when I think you couldn't be more annoying, you do your best to surpass each level I've been forced to endure."

"I do my best," Goku said, smiling broadly. "I save it just for you, because you're just that  _special_. I like how that electronic voice sounds on you, too."

"Get out." Vegeta snorted at him like an annoyed older brother. "The next person who says that dies. Also, I despise you with the heat of a thousand suns."

It wasn't long before they were laughing together warmly. Vegeta's humor, however, was soon displaced by concern. He turned over slowly, glancing at the exoskeleton and, then, at Goku.

After scanning the room for threats, Goku lowered his voice. "What's wrong? Should I get someone?"

"No," Vegeta said with weariness. "We weren't paying attention. Bulma left the ship. Damn it. Why would she do this now? Who would  _let her_  do this now?"

"Let her?" With a lengthy exhale, Goku covered his face with both hands. "It's like keeping up with a Saiyan toddler. I'll see what I can do."

"No, Kakarot, it's like keeping up with Bulma – not you - and I'm coming with you."

"Like  _hell_ you are, Vegeta."

This time the prince lifted his eyebrow. "Oh really?"

 _Crap._ Goku's stomach turned. He had worked wonders helping Vegeta feel better, and now this. Strongly challenging him to stand down on  _anything_  related to Bulma was like poking a nest of fire ants.

All of that hard work, gone to shit.

Then again, Goku thought, maybe this next adventure would be what everyone needed.

* * *

**Notes: Not exactly the reunion either Bulma or Vegeta expected, but you have to start somewhere. Goku may need some backup, but he's a resourceful guy.** **Thank you reading! Please take a moment to leave a comment if you can, and thanks to everyone for sending the holiday wishes. Best wishes to you, as well! I appreciate your support and ideas as stories proceed.**


	7. Unfinished Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Bulma have finally reunited on the space ship, only to have a bitter argument about his recovery and her role in it. Goku tried to be peacemaker, having some success until he and Vegeta realized Bulma had left the ship.

Goku made good time helping Vegeta get suited to leave the ship. He still had many reservations about taking him to find Bulma, but gambling was in their blood.

"So, uh, you and this Shana were  _an item_  before you met me?"

"Help me fasten this bolt, Kakarot."

"Vegeta, come on…"

The prince looked up as Goku stepped back. Vegeta was long past embarrassment about this part of his personal life being "out there" given the circumstances. He epitomized contrast: hard and smooth, quiet and brash, giving and unforgiving, strong and vulnerable. Naturally, exceedingly empathetic souls would be interested in understanding these multiple emotional dichotomies, including Bulma. However,  _why_  they tried still eluded him at times, especially when he had been volatile, dangerous, and ruthless. Goku was no exception.

After tugging the harness strapped at his waist, he surveyed his mechanical leg braces. "The only person on my mind now is my wife. Focus on that."

"I am here for you both, Vegeta."

"And you made a promise to me about her. You better damn well keep it."

Goku adjusted the glove on Vegeta's left hand. "Well, if that's the case, maybe you should stay here then. We're not at war or any immediate danger. Risking your health needlessly isn't keeping Bulma safe at all costs, as Gohan and I promised. More than that, she's just as willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good as you are."

"I'm fine, and stop it. While I accept that she's willing, I do not accept that she should have to."

"Since when did this happen? Is Bulma aware?"

Vegeta extended his fingers to test the right hand glove's fit. "We're not senile old men yet. Think about it."

Goku's memory landed firmly on the destructive aftermath of Vegeta's possession by Babadi. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh,' Vegeta replied sarcastically. "Since then I have lived in view of that. Bulma's awareness is irrelevant to me now. That's what we argued about before you showed up."

"So you're saying her opinion doesn't matter anymore on this subject - or it never has?"

"I'm  _saying_  that my understanding as  _a husband_ and a  _father_  has reached its limit. Trunks is an adult now and can make his own decisions. My intelligent, demanding daughter may be able to blow up half of this planet, but it doesn't mean that she's any less worth protecting from the kind of emotional trauma her brother endured at her age because -"

"That's over." Goku placed Vegeta's left arm around his shoulder to lift him, taking stock of how his friend seemed to dismiss his own importance. "Your debt has been paid, many times over."

Vegeta responded again with silence until the exoskeleton and body suit activated. He walked with ease, outstretching his weakened left arm that now had A.I. support, as well.

"Maybe, Kakarot. If anything, this trip has cleared any doubts I've had since Bulma was ill, and of all people I would think you would understand. No more questions. We're wasting time. Let's go."

"No," a voice bellowed from speakers on both sides of his room. "Absolutely not. It's unsafe for you." Goku and Vegeta briefly cast side glances at each other as Kenny entered looking perturbed.

"And what are you going to do?" Vegeta asked, coolly challenging the young physician. "Drug me?"

Kenny avoided looking directly or appealing to the larger Saiyan standing there, knowing that Vegeta would probably be insulted. "I would rather reason with you logically than use chemical restraints."

"From where I stand, regardless of whatever approach you're considering to stop me, you might not fare as well as I suspect I will, doctor."

"Yes, Vegeta. You talk tough in that gear, but I guarantee you might regret leaving. This is a medically controlled environment especially equipped to support you. The treatments used to keep you stable also might make you more prone to other illnesses that normally wouldn't harm you. Thus, if you catch a type of cold out there that, say, only the Celini get, and then  _develop pneumonia_ and  _die_ , I think that outcome is suboptimal. Don't you?"

"My wife is out there doing gods know what!" Vegeta said furiously. "She…she just got here. Why did no one stop her? You've managed to keep  _others_  from visiting me, but the first time Bulma sets foot sets on this planet she roams freely? She  _isn't_  a commander, and despite my condition I still have a say in everything happening on this ship. You are officially relieved from your duties, doctor. You…you will not treat me anymore. Donovan can take over your duties until I leave here for Earth."

Noticing a tremor in Vegeta's right hand, Goku grasped his shoulder. Something didn't feel right, and he didn't need a medical monitor to tell him so. "Hey, now. Calm down. He's just trying to help. You know that. Bulma and Tights really trust him. Who hasn't been allowed to see you?"

"Doesn't matter, and let go of me," Vegeta growled, shaking Goku's hand off. "I'm fine. I still have more than enough strength and skills to murder you both and destroy the evidence. Don't give me a reason."

Desperate, Kenny opened a telepathic link with Goku.  _"Your face doesn't show it, but I sense your worry because I am an empath. He cannot go with you. Please, if you care about him, don't allow this. Please."_

 _"I'm concerned,"_ Goku replied, _"but he is tougher than you give him credit for. You've never seen him fight, like me."_

 _"I have, actually,"_ the doctor said,  _"although not like you. He lives because his will is incredibly strong. I've never… seen or felt anything like it. But for all intents and purposes, he should be dead."_

 _Yeah, many times over,_ Goku thought to himself. _This kid has no idea._

Vegeta felt anxious as a familiar sensation nauseated him. He wanted to get out of there. He knew he would be fine once he and Goku left. "Kakarot, what the hell are you waiting for?! Let's…I…I..."

Goku grabbed hold as Vegeta clutched his chest and collapsed into his arms.

"Shit!" Kenny bolted beside them, dropping on his knees. "He might be entering cardiac arrest. Floor first!"

"I got him!" Goku pressed his hand on Vegeta's chest, shocking him twice on the floor. "I got him. I got him." His friend's condition was far worse than he realized. What kind of thing was this?

Vegeta wouldn't accept being confined indefinitely - if he lived. Goku wouldn't accept it, either for his friend or himself.

"Don't overdo it," Kenny said with quiet amazement. "Let's get him on the examination table now." He lifted Vegeta's eyelids and inhaled in an uneasy breath. "His pupils are dilated. I'm giving him an injection. He needs to go in the treatment chamber soon.  _Damn it._  Damn it to hell. He was doing well."

Vegeta awakened within about ten minutes. Nothing felt right, and it wasn't just about Bulma. He had to go. Why did no one understand? "No," he said weakly. "No."

"No." Goku shook his head. "You listen to me now. I will find Bulma, all right? She is fine, I'm sure. She was mad, but she wouldn't leave if she felt like you weren't in good hands. And… I… promise that, while the doctors do stuff their way, we'll figure out how to do things  _our way_ to help you get better."

Kenny looked at Goku curiously, wondering what  _that_ meant. He said nothing, though, as his interest and empathic awareness intensified. The Saiyans' bond transcended fraternity. It felt ancestral.

Despite his torpor, Vegeta challenged Goku with a devilish smirk. "Keep… keep…your vow."

After two attendants entered to watch over Vegeta, Goku subtly signaled his desire to speak elsewhere. He and Kenny entered an adjoining room. "You know where she went, don't you? Tell me. Is she alone?"

"Not at all," Kenny said, rubbing his tired eyes.  _"_ She took three women from the ship, including the captain, to visit the Celini woman who found Vegeta. I am outranked and had no say in their decision. I can control others' access to my patients only. Bulma must have planned this before you came."  
  
"Only women? Why?"

"Women lead on Aurora. Remember why we came? We're offering our support and seeking theirs."

"OK." Goku couldn't see Bulma being impulsive about such a serious duty, especially with her husband this ill. "I will give it some time. Vegeta is doing better for now."

"You're actually going to wait?" Distressed, Kenny glowered with absolute rage. "Bulma needs to know now! Your name is Kakarot, right? It's time to get Vegeta home."

"You can call me Goku. As you said, you're outranked. You won't contact the captain's away team while I'm here, understand? Just trust me – and Bulma. We'll get Vegeta home soon. With this attack, he will likely need to stay on board for another day, yes?"  
  
"Yes," Kenny said halfheartedly.   
  
"He has a great doctor in you. I am glad Bulma chose you to come."

"Actually, she didn't." Kenny said sadly. "The commander did before we left Earth. My dad had been one of Bulma's physicians a few years ago. I am trying my best."

"Vegeta has good instincts." Smiling, Goku placed a supportive hand on Kenny's shoulder. "It's not easy standing up to him. You remind me a lot of my oldest son. Also, I'm sure your father is proud."

* * *

Unlike her three escorts, Bulma felt overdressed in her body suit. But every precaution mattered. Vegeta probably wouldn't have been satisfied until she resembled a walking trash bag.

"How are you holding up, Dr. Brief?"

"I'm fine, Colette. My husband is still being a pain in the ass, so I'm relieved."

All of the women laughed. Colette and an ensign named Kasia patted Bulma's back. They admired her as much as their shipmates respected Vegeta.

"Permission to speak freely?" Kasia asked.

"Of course," Bulma said, squeezing the young woman's hand. "For the entire time we're together. We're all sisters here for a special endeavor. Isn't that right, captain?"

"As you wish." Colette glanced at Kasia, silently warning her not to be too "free."

"Thank you, Dr. Brief," Kasia said shyly. "I guess, well, I'm supposed to be married a year from now, to another member of the crew."

"Yes, I remember! It's Darren, right? He's a kind young man – and very smart."

Kasia blushed and smiled. "He is."

"Well, is there a problem?" Bulma asked with concern. "He certainly has Vegeta's imprimatur."

"I know. That's why I want him to marry us – I mean, when your husband is better. I know he will come out strong. I just know it. Do you think he would approve?"

 _By the gods_. Vegeta presiding over a wedding? Bulma's lips pursed. She could barely keep her mouth from falling open. She also couldn't laugh, considering Kasia's sincerity. The request touched her heart.

Colette avoided direct eye contact. "You've said  _enough_ , ensign," she said sharply. "Here you are, thinking only about yourself when everyone else -"

Bulma touched Colette's shoulder. "It's all right, captain," she said softly. "I'm happy that the ensign believes… so staunchly in my husband's recovery. He would really appreciate it, as much as I do."

Kasia's sweet, bashful smile was replaced by horror as Bulma shed tears. "I'm sorry if I upset you, Dr. Brief! Oh, the captain was right. I'm sorry."

"You didn't upset me," Bulma said as they arrived at the Celini encampment at the base of a mountain. "I wish you as much love, devotion, and longevity as Vegeta and I have had. Maybe fewer arguments, though."

Shana stepped out of what appeared to be an official reception tent wearing modest traditional attire. Her white hair braids had been gathered and interlaced with purple ribbon. Two tall women stood sentry at the entrance. Men also were present but stayed in the background, watching closely.

Bulma knew then their decorous emissary had more clout on Aurora than either she or Vegeta thought - or had he known all along? Shana straightened her back and bowed, clasping her hands across her lap.

"Would you care to speak alone first, Bulma?" she asked. "Are you troubled?"

Bulma gestured for her escorts to step back. "Usually I am better at poker face. I'm fine, though."

"Poker face?" Shana looked completely lost. "What is that?"

"Never mind," Bulma replied. "Yes, let's talk alone."

Shana crossed her arms behind her back as Bulma walked beside her through aquamarine-colored tussock grass. They approached a precipice overlooking a lake that glimmered like fine crystal.

"You are taking him home soon."

Bulma nodded. "Yes, but there's unfinished business."

"The first is speaking with members our diet," Shana said, looking over her shoulder. "I have delivered. Some are here. What else?"

"What  _else_  did you tell my husband? And  _what_  did he show you?"

Shana placed her forefinger and thumb over her mouth. Her eyes closed.


	8. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Bulma and Shana, Vegeta's former lover, are nearing another argument as Bulma prepares to speak with some of planet Aurora's leaders about the earthlings' extended visitation and the crew's offers to support citizens there. Meanwhile, Vegeta has suffered a setback, but his will is intact as he awaits his wife's safe return.

Shana looked Bulma in the eye, observing a small fracture in the woman's normally upbeat confidence. No doubt that's what it was, which surprised her. Then she remembered Vegeta's warning about not playing games with his wife's emotions. She had no desire to do that, but apparently the couple had a difficult discussion before Bulma and her escorts arrived at their meeting site. But even Shana's patience had its limits. Who the hell wants to be an ex-lover's marriage counselor? Absolutely no woman in her right mind would. However, she couldn't say with full certainty that she was in her right mind.

She inhaled, lowering her hand from her chin. "He told me to leave, angrily, after awakening from that horrible fall, Bulma. He felt hurt and humiliated. I refused to go and tried to comfort him. That's all."

Bulma stepped past her as a flock of birds soared with polish and spectacular force, much like her husband when he took flight. "As much as it irritates the hell out of me that you could - and not me – I appreciate it. What I don't appreciate is being lied to about the result. Now, let's try this exercise again."

_The gall of this woman,_ Shana thought. "You know  _what_? I have had enough interrogation from you. Lest you forget, your people are still on  _my_   _territory_  as visitors. Many welcome your offerings, but don't be overconfident. More, I have been sincere and honest about my role in Vegeta's life. You know that."

"You are avoiding the topic," Bulma countered. "Vegeta is shutting me out. You have a role. Tell me."

Shana lifted her hand to halt further attack. " _Let me finish._  I have been as supportive as any woman  _in my position_  can be with one who, while admirable as a person, also happens to be as overbearing and stubborn as her husband. Though I am not a doctor, I warned you and Vegeta about expecting too much too soon.  _So has your sister._  Perhaps it's time to reconsider your expectations."

"That's  _not_  how we've lived. It's not who we are. I told you that, point blank."

"Fine then," Shana replied, moving in closer. "Maybe he's shutting you out for that  _reason_."

"What are you talking about?"

"Without telling him, Vegeta figured out that I am not well. He learned when he…he…" She sighed. "After we touched, he asked me to make eye contact. He showed memories of what happened after he left Aurora. He also revealed some of what Frieza had done to him as a child."

"Gods." Bulma was taken aback. "Everything?" She couldn't fathom that Vegeta had gone this far.

"You know him better than that," Shana said. "No, he didn't. He was trying to make a point, Bulma."

"Which was?"

"He left Aurora because I would've surely died had the situation been different. There's no question. I was younger and had as safe a place to live as anyone under Frieza's rule. Vegeta said he knew that losing him, in part, had influenced some of my choices over my life. I was unhappy that he called me out on it. Regardless, he made the right decision. Then he asked me to live, for him."

Still reeling that Vegeta had shared deeply personal memories with another woman, Bulma asked, "Did you finally tell him everything about your condition?"

"I confirmed nothing," Shana said firmly. "My choices about my health are my own. Vegeta has enough to deal with – namely, his pride and yours."

"So, essentially, you shut him out after he shared these memories with you? Really?"

"It's not your place to judge him or me. He asked me. He did not order me. It's not like he would have had success anyway."

"I can't believe this," Bulma walked in front, grasping her shoulder. "You  _owe_  him, damn it."

Shana grabbed her wrist, pushing her back. "I don't owe him more than what  _I've said_  already. Do you honestly believe Vegeta would be pleased seeing you act like this? Maybe he's trying to protect you from… what happened to me emotionally. You have more at stake now, and he loves you that much. The investment in your relationship is different."

"Don't lecture me about my marriage," Bulma snapped. "We've been through hell and back. I know –"

"Exactly, so don't tell  _me_ he has no reason to worry!" Shana's eyes narrowed, showing the full extent of her anger. "Whatever it is, maybe he doesn't want you to sacrifice your well-being any more than you have already! Try being a little  _less_  selfish. Martyrdom surely doesn't look good on you either, Dr. Brief."

Although a rising mist shielded their tense argument, the ship's captain had heard raised voices. She left for the clearing. A Celini woman from the tent's entrance followed. "Dr. Brief, is everything all right?"

Bulma and Shana took short breaths before facing the opposite direction. Shana moved forward first, touching the Celini guard's chest to confirm their safety. Her disarming smile offered reassurance.

Bulma's mouth had thinned to a line lacking much openness. She had to push thoughts about Vegeta to the back of her mind. "Yes, captain. All is well. Shall we all begin our formal talks now?"

The other Celini woman, who had been eyeing them suspiciously, nodded. "Yes, it is time."

As they proceeded, Bulma noticed Shana's hand brush across her abdomen. She stopped briefly as the woman grimaced from pain, unbeknownst to those walking ahead of them.

Shana frowned, half warning and pleading with Bulma to keep quiet. She had said her piece and expected her to hold to that.  _"I am beyond help,"_  she said telepathically. _"It is how things should be."_

Bulma shook her head, lifting Shana's arm slightly. "If you say so," she whispered, trying to hide the pity in her eyes. "But if we can help Vegeta, I can't see how the same couldn't be done with you."

Everyone was offered food and drink as upon entering the spacious meeting tent. The inside was adorned with woven, decorative cloth on all sides. Stately women dressed similarly to Shana sat in wicker chairs in various corners. In front sat four wizened older women. Elderhood had not made them any less graceful, proud, or exquisitely beautiful.

"What did you expect, young lady?" a silver-haired woman in the center said as Bulma moved in front. "You seem surprised. We are stronger than you think. Perhaps we could give your shipmates a significant challenge."

Bulma bowed respectfully and said, "I think you have already. Can't say that I'm quite as young anymore, though. I apologize if my staring has offended you. Anyone who lives through Frieza's dominance and a deadly epidemic is pretty tough. I appreciate your courtesy."

The speaker smiled kindly, which Bulma readily returned. "You are quite attractive, dear, and thank Shana for being welcomed here. She is highly respected. She's also normally more reserved. But when she described your personality, we became more interested."

Bulma looked at Shana, wondering how candid she had been with them. Shana's eyes slowly redirected her counterpart's attention to the front. Another elder with striking oval-shaped green eyes and a long, thick hair braid observed the secretive glance between the two women. Her brow arched from curiosity.

"I understand that your mate is remains quite ill," she said, leaning forward on a wooden cane. "That's why your ship's stay has lengthened, as well."

"That's part of it, yes, but his health is improving," Bulma replied. "As you know, we're here because someone visited our planet suggesting that we could help."

"Yes," a dark-skinned elder said grouchily. "How presumptuous! A male, right? Always a male – and not a Celini man, clearly. We are not  _pathetic_  beggars. Even as Frieza's wretched, boorish fools visited, our women weren't hopeless, ignorant whores. Many  _took_  from them, too. Some men even fell in love. Unfortunately, some Celini women did also, as if our own men weren't  _good enough_."

The old woman's cloudy eyes aimed a pointed glare at Shana, who coldly returned it.

"You have  _said_  enough, Yerta," the elder in the center warned as she calmly grasped her hand. "Cease this unprovoked rudeness. We are still listening to our visitor."

Bulma wondered how this talk would have worked if Vegeta attended _._  Despite its abrasiveness, Yerta's flaming spirit amused her to a degree. She nodded and replied, "Well, yes, but this traveler who appealed to my husband and me was encouraged by one of your own – who also  _happened_  to be male."

Yerta grunted, crossing her arms. "We Celini have been gracious and welcoming to those seeking relief from what has shackled them mentally – and even physically. However, they respect our complete independence for reasons beyond mere appreciation. Your husband's condition demonstrates the useful tools  _at_   _our disposal_  to ensure our self-rule… permanently."

Shana angrily approached the elders' circle. "Aunt Yerta! How  _dare_  you do this here? It is shameful." Her friend Quetta quickly pulled her back, whispering supportive words to soothe her, as other women in the room appeared confused.

Bulma's amusement with the old woman's antics swiftly changed to anger, but she stood firm. "With all due respect, elder, I know for a fact that that your so-called tool wasn't used deliberately by anyone on my husband, and I give your niece full credit for saving him."

"Yes," Yerta said with disapproval as she eyed Shana again. "She can be kind to a fault, which has not always supported her happiness or proper advancement since the colonizer's rule ended."

Bulma never had seen such resentment between women from the same family before. How angry would this crone remain over her niece's old relationship with Vegeta? Yerta might as well have broadcast his name and lineage from ten loudspeakers. No wonder Shana had said nothing about her last living relative. They had both lost so much, obviously.

"But your niece is quite resourceful." Bulma said. Her eyes landed hard on Yerta until they scanned over each elder's face. "As all of you have acknowledged, she has risked her reputation for you to hear us out. I sincerely hope your council keeps an open mind. I also hope that, by the end of this, our people can… help you not to live in as much fear. I understand what that kind of fear does to good people. I have witnessed it up close."

Having touched a sensitive nerve, she waited as the four women took turns whispering with each other. At last the elder in the middle extended her hands, welcoming her closer. "We do not have full governing power. Other members of our leadership must be involved in final decision-making."

Bulma bowed. "Thank you."

The woman patted her wrists tenderly. "You would make a good Celini leader. Oh yes. You would be wonderful."

Shana left carrying a wine-filled goblet outside, to the back of the tent. Bulma spotted her exit and soon followed. Shana took a swig and handed the cup over.

Bulma savored the sweet beverage's fizziness as she sipped. "On Earth we would call your aunt 'a piece of work.'"

Shana huffed, agreeing wholeheartedly. "I understand the meaning - and yes, she is."

"I am so sorry. Is this why you -"

Shana took the cup back to interject. "Your persistence is merciless, Bulma. I am fine. I did not think Yerta would show her worst side  _like that_  in front of everyone."

Bulma stared forward as mist enveloped them again. "Do… you want to see Vegeta before we leave Aurora?"

"No." Shana's eyes flickered as she swallowed more wine. "I said goodbye a long time ago."

* * *

Goku stood walked behind Bulma as they re-entered Vegeta's room. Her blue eyes lacked the teary glossiness from earlier. She had entered her fight stance on the battlefield.

"What happened?" she asked Kenny, observing the young man's manner. Vegeta must have gotten inside of his head, she thought. She wasn't surprised how her husband could even break an empath's resolve without being one himself. The doctor had been warned.

"He almost went into cardiac arrest," Kenny said quietly. "I –"

"There is no  _almost_  with cardiac arrest," Bulma interrupted. "I don't need you to hold my hand when situations like this happen, doctor. We must be frank. He can't have too many more of these episodes, even with the strength he's regained on his own. Can he talk?"

"Yes," Kenny replied. "His speech is clear. He won't rest fully until seeing you."

Bulma hadn't spent all these years with him to watch this happen, not from a man who trained years to be one of the greatest – and who was the greatest  _to her_. She looked at Goku and said, "You know, I'd cut off my right arm to see him thrown into a mountain again and get up like nothing happened."

"Me too," Goku said with thoughtful smile. "It certainly doesn't hurt as much as it used to for us."

He felt confident that his friend would reclaim his rightful place as a powerhouse after he and Gohan got done with him. The prince had asked him to keep a vow, but Goku knew he'd go through holy, torturous hell getting there. After all, this still was Vegeta.

Bulma laid her head on his arm they approached the chamber together. Vegeta's eyes opened gradually as she unlatched the hood. His gaze shifted to her waist, where Goku held her for emotional support.

"Why are… you touching her like that, Kakarot?" his mechanical voice rumbled. "Off limits."

"I knew her before you, buddy," Goku said. "She's always liked misfits."

"Aw." Relieved, Bulma cradled her husband's chin within her palm. "You're jealous. That's wonderful, sweetheart. You haven't lost any brain function."

"Hn. Don't  _change_  the subject, Bulma."

"Classic Vegeta," Goku said, laughing. "You can't bully us with that fancy voice you have." He nodded authoritatively at those left in the room. "Let's give them some time alone." Though Vegeta was the toughest bastard he'd ever known, at that moment the gratitude in the prince's eyes was palpable.

Bulma sat down, lowering his treatment chamber to her level. Its subtle, meditative hum felt like a mantra confirming his longevity – his permanence - in this lifetime. One of his best and worst qualities was supporting silence around him. However long Bulma needed to think, he wouldn't disturb her.

Finally, she slipped an arm into a tubular port allowing her to touch him without immersing her hand in fluid. Their hands locked into a solid grip. Her mind became a cinema as Vegeta projected his memory of the first time she held him, ever, after he was badly injured at her parents' home. She then saw herself bedridden and sicker than he'd ever witnessed. He covered his face on her bedside as she slept, speaking softly in Saiyan, with Trunks holding his shoulder to comfort him.

Their eyes lowered as the memory ended.

"I'm really sorry, tough guy."

"You should be, princess."

Bulma cut her eyes at him. "That's  _queen_ , you arrogant ass."

Vegeta gently rubbed his wife's thumb and said, "Always," winning a pleased smirk from her. "Since you went to all of that trouble, did you at least score a victory?"

"Of course I did," Bulma quipped with a sly grin, "but those women are the toughest negotiators I've met in years."

"Stop…stop exaggerating to impress me," Vegeta said as his hand relaxed. He couldn't fight sleep's determination to claim his consciousness much longer. "When are we going home?"

Bulma leaned over to stroke his face again, settling her lips on his. "We'll be there when you wake up. I promise."

Vegeta closed his eyes while they kissed, recalling how her love ruptured the fused chains around his heart - with a force mightier than any Saiyan's blow. "I'm sorry, too, Bulma."

* * *

**Notes: Goku is paying closer attention to Bulma and Vegeta's interactions than the couple realizes. Thank you for reading. Please take a moment to leave a comment if you feel the spirit. I appreciate seeing your thoughts about the characters' interactions.**


	9. Harness Your Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Bulma have returned to Earth from planet Aurora, facing the challenges ahead as the prince's recovery proceeds. It is now a year later since their departure, and the couple continues to grapple over their choices. Meanwhile, Goku remains committed to keeping his promise to Vegeta.

_I should be used to this by now,_  Vegeta thought as he meditated in the recovery room. Meditation. Ha! He chuckled to himself. Training like the calculating, determined maniac he was – and would continue to be – had sufficed as meditation for what seemed like five lifetimes. However, over the years he had learned to be a wiling servant-student, opening himself to instruction from teachers who helped unlock his full potential as the combat genius he already was. Goku had a head start from childhood with the seemingly endless litany of willing trainers, both mortal and otherworldly, who watched him run off like a bandit with the hard and magnificent lessons they shared. His successes were their pride.

For so long, Vegeta's successes – however he chose to define them - were his and  _only_ his. They were his pride. Until Goku came along and shattered many of his personal shibboleths, the prince hadn't spent much time blaming others for failures. In all truth, he didn't fail much as a soldier. He couldn't and, foremost, also expect to keep breathing.

Frieza was in a different category, of course. That monster randomly imposed or invented "failures" that usually resulted vicious punishment later. Vegeta could say, "Thank you, Lord Frieza," and end up with the creature's tail around his neck for not being "properly worshipful." Working hard did not protect the prince from being on the receiving end of that psychopath's unyielding mind-fucking enterprise.

But Goku.  _Oh boy._  That guy. Once Vegeta admitted how much he had gained after their fateful introduction on Earth - and stopped blaming his rival for his perceived loss of honor - did a broader path to enlightenment open. Goku's core training as a martial artist included the philosophy behind cleansing the mind and spirit through meditation, before and after combat. Vegeta had a military mind, a royal's entitlement, and a street brawler's ethos. Goku fought like a cunning wolf. Vegeta calculated like a German shepherd before crushing opponents like a pit bull. Even as they trained together and joined forces during hard times, both relishing the enterprise as Saiyans, Vegeta retained some doubt about Goku's tactical preparations, meditation being one of them.

Was it really necessary?

And yet here he was, corralling his pride and sense of self, all because he asked Goku to keep a vow. But he hadn't expected Goku to draw from his unvarnished childhood instruction from Master Roshi. Well, minus the embarrassingly vulgar, unapologetic lechery for which the semi-immortal Turtle Hermit was also known. Fortunately, Goku also used lessons from his more pure-hearted ex-trainer, Master Korin.

So, yes, there was meditation – which quieted the noise roiling Vegeta's mind. Over the past year, his days filled with endless discussions about mutated DNA and gene editing; sub-clinical effects from his treatment; immunotherapy and immune system malfunctioning; possibly getting cancer; avoiding seizures; and whether full use of his left arm and leg would return without artificial support.

He didn't say much to his wife or kids, who gave him a wide berth for his concentration. At least some breakthroughs happened with his treatment. Indeed, Tights' research team had outdone themselves, delivering gradual, solid results: increasing his pain tolerance; protecting him from other illnesses; regenerating cells and tissues to restore "normal" functioning. The threat of cancer would loom for years, though, because the experiments were aggressive, with many never tested on anyone remotely close to his species.

At least he could move.

He and Goku left in darkness each morning to train. At first the prince didn't want to use artificial aids, especially the leg and arm supports, which Goku understood but didn't urge. With some exceptions, Vegeta always had worn special body suits.

Besides, Goku planned to strip his friend's emotions and bodily protections bare soon enough. Vegeta chose him over their other trainers for that reason. No one could provoke him like Goku would – ever.

* * *

Bulma stood in their kitchen washing dishes, which she rarely did. All of the robots were turned off. Vegeta stood at the side door, watching closely. She was upset, clearly. He eventually walked in, sweaty and limping, taking a gallon of juice from the fridge. Bulma threw a towel over her shoulder. Raising a curious eyebrow, Vegeta grabbed it mid-flight as he approached a neatly decorated table. His speech had improved significantly, though some tics showed when he was less relaxed.

"Don't you dare sit on my new chairs like that," Bulma said coolly. "I could smell you from the hallway before you reached the door."

Vegeta draped the towel over the seat closet to her. "I could…could easily rub my hard-earned stench all over your pretty little backside," he said, teasing her senses with his smoky voice. "You didn't have a problem before we had kids."

Bulma's arms spread across the kitchen sink, on both sides, as she peered down the drain. "If you recall, smart ass, I always demanded bathing within two minutes after kissing you, and you always followed those orders."

"I don't remember that - and while your angry flirtation with me is fun, I'd rather know what you're pissed with me about. It's not like I didn't notice it this morning before leaving our bed."

Bulma walked behind him, placing a cool cloth over his neck and handing him another to disinfect his hands. "How did you know I wasn't asleep? My back was turned away from you."

"Dumb question," Vegeta replied, pulling her onto his muscular lap. She twisted and wriggled, trying to remove herself, until his rough finger slowly traced across her neckline. "You barely slept all night."

Bulma shuddered as he kissed her chest. "Whatever, Vegeta - and stop. I said you  _smel_ l."

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong? I'll keep going until you do. You won't finish your lab project today." He got a thrill watch her pupils dilate as he unlatched her jeans. Her legs inched open, straddling his, as two fingers circled her clit with a steady rhythm.

Bulma's eyelids tumbled drunkenly. "Damn it," she murmured, grabbing his hair. "Doing this won't make me any less frustrated. Her chest pressed harder on Vegeta as his fingers reached deeper into her panties. Her head swayed with each breath while he quietly observed her defenses fall.

He licked his lips and smirked. "I know. Let's finish our talk later. But first, we shower."

Bulma woke up later still heady and pleased by her husband's careful, loving attention to pleasuring her body. He had avoided sex and intimate touching for months. Not ever having been sick since they met, he had a hard time feeling comfortable with any of that during his recovery. They didn't have sex this time either, but also he welcomed Bulma's eagerness to pleasure him. Sex or not, she wanted him to know he was wanted. Actually, she had been overjoyed in the kitchen that he felt confident to take the lead. But everything comes at a cost, and she soon found her robe to look for him.

Vegeta seated himself on a bench in their estate's gazebo. April weather offered the gifts of a cool breeze and a light rain shower. He liked the smell of lilies and dampened soil. They didn't overwhelm.

"Why are you lurking out there, princess?" he asked, looking up. "You aren't hiding your ki well."

"I guess I really wasn't trying, papa."

Vegeta turned around, studying his daughter's features. "So you were testing if I sensed you? That hasn't been a problem for a while." He moved aside on the bench, making room for her to sit.

Bulla smiled, eagerly speeding over. She looked down at his left arm. "Are you OK?"

"Yes," Vegeta replied, puzzled. He appeared as he normally did. He didn't smile for the hell of it - at least at first - but he was always pleased to see her. "Why?"

"I think mom is bothered about something," Bulla said, eyeing a plate of lemon cookies Vegeta obviously had waiting. If he was around, "the Brief women" usually sought him out for affection on days like this. He didn't know why exactly, but he obliged and never questioned what had become a pleasant ritual.

"She is."

Bulla nibbled on her cookie. "Do you know why?"

"Yes, I do," Vegeta replied, sipping on a glass of water. His eyes crawled over each inch of the creeping vines draped along the gazebo's right side. Then he closed them and sighed.

Bulla frowned. "Papa? What's the deal here?"

Vegeta touched the back of her head. "Being our daughter, negotiation is the most important skill you'll need – especially when you marry."

Eyes widening, Bulla took his hand. "Oh my god." She covered her mouth. "Oh my god!"

"Go back inside, princess." Keeping a straight face, Vegeta winked at her. "Your mother is coming. You know what to do."

"Keep my mouth closed."

"That's my girl," Vegeta whispered, wiping powdered sugar from her hands. "Now go."

Bulla scampered past her mother, waving a greeting. Still dressed in her robe, Bulma grabbed a light coat and rain boots to trek to the gazebo, where Vegeta met her at the entrance looking displeased.

"Bulma –"

She lifted a finger to her lips, shushing him. "Don't go there. You know cool weather doesn't cause colds. Even if I get one, it doesn't compare to what you're about to do. I have held my tongue for a long time."

"Indeed," Vegeta said quietly. "As you can see, the results have been exceptional."

She rolled her eyes and replied, "You've worked hard, yes. You've also been monitored constantly, even with Goku."

Vegeta limped away from her, leaning on a rail. "Which I have had enough of. Bulma, look, it's time."

"No, I don't think it is. You heard what Tights said. You're still at risk for a bad seizure, which could set your recovery back for months - or, you know, possibly kill you. Senzu beans aren't gonna help with that. Just because some of your powers have returned doesn't mean the progress couldn't reverse. Your cells are still relearning and repairing themselves. What about the left side of your body?"

Vegeta turned away, looking into the garden. "Do you still… still believe in me?"

Surprised and bewildered, Bulma stood and said, "Why would you even ask that?"

"Yes or no?"

"That's the most ridiculous question I've heard, Vegeta. Ridiculous."

"It's not to me, Bulma. What happened to 'ride or die'? What's changed since I…I returned home? I was paralyzed almost. You know I must push myself. On Aurora, you were more vocal about it than me."

Bulma paused. He had done the hard work to be this vulnerable with anyone in his life, and she stuck by him through it all. She hadn't felt that he needed much reassurance in that respect. But he did.

"Of course I believe in you. My dad and I didn't design a gravity room, training robots, spaceship, and multiple body suits out of boredom over two decades. I want you to have what you want. I want it. I also want it to be seamless. I don't want you to die needlessly before it happens. I also love my husband, you jerk."

"Then this is the last argument we're having," Vegeta said, extending his hand to her. "Kakarot and I will train in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber two days from now. We'll tell Bulla and Trunks tonight."

* * *

Goku stood ramrod straight with Vegeta on the Lookout, gazing at the time chamber's entrance. Uncharacteristically, he didn't offer an enthusiastic greeting. He was more focused than worried about their plans. In the span of a day, they would return a year older. He understood Bulma's worry and empathized with her, but he believed this was best for everyone.

Bulma stood back as Vegeta took one last look at her. She gave him a thumbs up and turned to Goku. "Muscle head, if he dies again or returns brain damaged, you're a dead man. You got me?"

Goku raised his thumb at her. "Loud and clear, doctor."

Annoyed, Vegeta whistled impatiently. "Come on, Kakarot! We don't…don't have all fucking day!"

Goku scratched the back of his head. "Uh, actually, we have three-hundred and sixty-five days in there."

"You know what I mean!"

Bulma, Trunks, Bulla, and Gohan laughed as the chamber door closed. Goku also had requested that Dende, Earth's guardian, add another mystical element to their time in the chamber: having their inner memories revealed as they trained. Vegeta didn't know that he would fight his own demons personified – again and often – in every sense. He would be forced to build, contain, and redirect his power, and suppress his emotions in order to win.

"Where are you going, Kakarot?"

Goku nodded, disappearing into the chamber's abyss, leaving the prince to stand alone. "I'll be back."

"I know that, clown."

Goku smiled and saluted. "Bye, Vegeta."

Suddenly the gravity around the prince fluctuated, exerting an extraordinary force on his chest and shoulders. This was by design, and Vegeta expected the pressure to weigh harder on his body eventually. He staggered but didn't fall, stopping in place as a familiar voice cackled from behind.

"Ho, ho, ho! Looks my little monkey has lost his breath. Reminds me of the time I blew that handsome chest open with one shot. It took forever for you to bleed out. You just wouldn't shut…the… fuck…up."

Vegeta slowly turned around. "I sent you…you back to hell, Frieza."

"You did," the red-eyed menace taunted. "But you had the power of a god then. You have less battle value now than you did as a child, when your pathetic father left you. Oh, and that stutter of yours is quite charming!"

Vegeta instinctively crouched halfway into a fight stance, his right arm moving back, while the left extended forward.

Frieza sneered. "Are you…angry? Ah, ah, ah, little monkey. Such a nasty temper you have, although it was quite helpful when you served me. Oh, and when did you become right-handed? Are you not well?"

Vegeta began to wonder if Goku actually bartered with some otherworldly "friend" to borrow Frieza from hell to antagonize him. How often would he endure this? On a scale, he knew it could be worse, but he wished he had known of these plans to fight down "memory lane." Before he could grow angrier with Goku, he soon found himself encircled not only by Frieza, but four others from their galactic army days: Zarbon, Captain Ginyu, Recoome, and Cui.

"Don't worry," Frieza said. "I won't use my strongest transformation on you yet." He blew on his finger before firing a single shot at Vegeta's feet. "Methinks you're nervous."

"The hell I am," Vegeta said with a smirk. "You're not real." The illusions laughed wildly they enlarged.

Frieza smiled with murder in eyes. "They may not be, Prince Vegeta, but I can assure you that I am."

Vegeta heard an echoing beat. Tap, tap, tap, tap - like a metronome directing his movements. C _onserve energy. Maximize time. Harness your strength with the power of your mind._  He felt dizzy.

Far in the distance, Goku ended his kata practice and frowned. Then he powered up.

* * *

Goku bit his lips as the chamber door opened. He had no shirt on, just training pants and a bandanna tied on his head. Gohan and Trunks stood in front, exchanging serious gazes with him. Bulma and Bulla, who were farther back, held hands. Goku looked down solemnly as his childhood friend moved closer.

Bulma blinked frantically while Trunks grasped her shoulders. "You promised me," she hissed. "You promised to look after him, Goku. Why is he not with you?! How long were you going to wait?!"

Her body swayed as Goku took her hand. Bulla smiled at her older brother, whose eyes returned to the entrance. A beaten up, shirtless and shoeless Vegeta staggered out of the chamber, falling on his knees. Bulma immediately ran over, offering a senzu bean to help restore some of his strength.

He squinted and moved her hand away. "No… no."

"Damn you!" Bulma shouted. "Your lips are blue and you're wheezing. You could be relapsing! Guys, why are you just standing there?!"

"Bulma, stop." Vegeta coughed loudly and leaned forward, holding himself up with one arm on the ground. "Help me…me up, Kakarot."

Irate, Bulma wanted to murder everyone – perhaps Vegeta too – except for her daughter, who was unusually quiet. She was too upset to question why Bulla didn't follow. Regarding her husband: Yes, he had his ass whipped often, and yes, threats would be ever-present. But he had rarely entered fights so far behind, even when his opponents' relative power levels seemingly outmatched his, she thought. His smarts and resourcefulness offered advantages on top of his power.

That's right. They did.

"My pleasure," Goku said, nodding at Vegeta and the other men. "Bulma, honey, just let me handle it."

Trunks appeared in front of his mother with breakneck speed, lifting her into his arms. "Gotcha, pretty lady! Let's go!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Shocked, Bulma punched his shoulders as they moved back. "Take me back there this instant!"

Vegeta's eyes turned teal as a golden aura crept around his body. "Honestly, woman. If you ever tell this clown to protect me again in front of other witnesses, I will divorce you." He raised up, standing as solid as a mountain. After placing his hands on his hips, he began to laugh. The tone was rich, resonant, satisfied – one that everyone closest to him knew well.

Bulma laughed out loud, kicking her legs in the air. "Then show me what you got!"

Lightening sparked and crackled from Vegeta's body with dizzying luminescence while everyone looked on. Grinning widely, Goku clapped his hands. "Oh, Vegeta. Stop being so dramatic! You already were ninety percent there when we entered the chamber. By the way, Bulma, looks like those treatments Tights tortured him with worked out OK."

"Hn." Vegeta crossed his arms, fixing his gaze on Goku. "Ninety, you say?"

Goku soared over him, rearing back and belting out a holler as the prince followed. Their Super Saiyan transformations matched now, and Goku's eagerness distracted him enough for Vegeta to appear behind him, landing a kick between the shoulder blades. Goku flipped over him midair and they soon entered a fearsome hand-to-hand combat battle. Their fists collided, sending explosive, sizzling power around them, from all sides. Then they separated, hurling a circular fusillade of ki missiles at each other.

"No final flash?!" Goku shouted.

"That's for…for special occasions!" Vegeta shouted back. "Why should I waste that move on you?"

Bulma could barely contain her joy as the prince dived for ground, joined by Goku, where they continued battle. The men threw left-and-right hooks until Vegeta jumped backward on his hands, landing a crushing kick directly onto Goku's chest.

Goku wiped his chin and smiled. "You're holding back. Nice acrobatics, though."

Vegeta smirked as their golden auras changed to bright white. "You beat the hell out of Frieza with this next transformation, so I said, 'Why not?' You're the next best example for me to test. No cheating."

"Papa, you did it!" Delighted, Bulla pumped her fists in the air "Yay! You told me you would."

"You don't know the half of it," Goku said as he and Vegeta powered down. "You really don't."

"Don't get too excited, princess." Vegeta said quietly. "Remember what I've taught you. I have learned many hard lessons."

Bulma couldn't tolerate any more coded language from either. "OK, boys. One of you needs to cough up the rest of the story now. You had a year in there to drive each other crazy."

"Follow me," Vegeta said. "I have something to show you, Bulma." Once inside the Lookout's palace, his arms spread wide as Bulma jumped into a hug. After a kiss, he moved her hand down his backside.

"We can't have sex here," Bulma whispered nervously. "What are you doing? This is a sacred place."

"Huh?" Vegeta flushed from embarrassment. "No way. Of course we can't." He stepped back, fully exposing his regrown Saiyan tail from within his training shorts.

Bulma's eyes widened. "I can't  _believe_  it! It grew back. Has something else changed with your powers? Tights is going to shit a brick over this!"

Vegeta placed his forehead against hers. "I already shit two for her."

* * *

Notes: Vegeta's hard-earned recovery hasn't erased thoughts of his travels to planet Aurora. Thanks for the comments on the last chapter! BTW, I just *had* to tweak that part about Vegeta sending Frieza back to hell, and not Goku, since that's what should have happened in the "Resurrection F" movie.  😉


	10. Live Your Best Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: With lots of support, Vegeta has reclaimed his power -- and even a new tail -- although there's much more he intends to do to surpass his achievement. He's also considering his good fortune and who played a role, including the woman he left before meeting the love of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!

Vegeta turned over to face his wife in bed. They had been together for almost a week on their “second honeymoon” to celebrate his recovery, on the western side of the planet in a resort town, and for the past two days their quiet time alone had been blissful. The other three days, Bulma said, had been valuable tests of the prince’s patience, much like perfecting his fighting methods. The town's humble, hard-working people were nice, mostly, and didn’t bother anyone. The resort’s wealthier guests left a bad taste in Vegeta’s mouth. They seemed more interested in foolishness than enjoying themselves.  
  
Having traveled the universe, he recognized one constant: Many mortals took their good fortune and talents for granted. Everything could be stripped away instantly, never to be recovered, leaving devastation of mind, body, and spirit. How many forget or ignore the simple pleasures of watching their spouses and children sleep peacefully?

He had been one, but never again. He felt proud of passing these tests.  
  
His bearded chin brushed Bulma's collarbone until she embraced his neck, pulling him closer. They kissed unhurriedly with a quiet, cozy tenderness of longtime lovers. Then, something ignited within him.  
  
Hunger.

Deep, abiding hunger.

He shivered lightly as his thumb caressed Bulma’s cheek. “You’ve been patient.”  
  
“You did the same with me,” she replied drowsily. “I felt so terrible about myself when I was sick. I wondered if you would ever want me sexually like this again, especially with the scars. I felt ugly.”  
  
Vegeta touched long surgical scars on her abdomen. Skin grafts and cellular repair therapy could’ve wiped them off completely over time, but until then she had not wanted him to see her body fully.  
  
“Tattoos,” he said with all seriousness as they kissed. “That’s what I see. You lived. Those were earned righteously.” Their lips, moistened and reddened, parted as he spread Bulma’s legs wider, his right hand sliding beneath the small of her back.  
  
Bulma smiled as his fingers cupped her ass, exploring its contours. “I’m…ah...still amazed that you convinced me not to get rid of them.”  
  
“You saved my life,” Vegeta said. “ _You_. I was drowning in bitterness when I came here and had nowhere to go. There is nothing – ever – that would make you less beautiful.”  
  
“You know, I actually might believe you,” Bulma said as her hair spiraled across the pillows. Her hand inched toward Vegeta’s tail, which had been sprawled comfortably over his back.

His eyes moved languidly to her right side. “Nope,” he said, moving it from her reach. “You can’t have it. It could fall off in a week from over-stimulation, for all we know. I would never forgive you.”  
  
“That’s not fair,” Bulma replied, pouting. “You just don’t want to orgasm before me again. In all these years, I have _never_ seen you act like that during climax before. You stopped short of howling into the forest the first night we stayed here.”

“Confirmation bias,” Vegeta said half-jokingly as another shiver ran down his spine. "Now _shut up_ so I can return the favor, _my queen_.”

Nothing in his appearance masked his next intentions. He wouldn’t be mocked easily, and his erotic arousal felt better than good. In fact, he felt like someone had drugged him. After Bulma turned over, he touched himself under the bedsheets, capturing her full attention and amusement. She always liked feeling his emerging hardness on her body. His long, rough strokes of his cock made it even better.

Then she saw his eyes.

Dark gray irises surrounded blood red pupils. This was new. He sniffed her neck and exhaled. Then he mumbled strangely -- had to be in Saiyan -- until she slapped him, attempting to break his trance.

 _Why did I just do that?_ Bulma thought. It was almost out of character _unless_ they had planned for going hard core in the bedroom -- or the woods, in a car, or gods know where else.  She wanted to have a little fun – their current bed had been well-exercised already -- but Vegeta looked downright _feral_.    
  
Her familiarity with Saiyans' feral side had been enough for five lifetimes, starting with Goku's Oozaru transformation when she was a teenager. Observing Vegeta's unconcern over being smacked, her mind darted from a playful “He won’t win this effortlessly” to “Oh shit. What did I get myself into?”

He was _studying_ her like one of his opponents.

 _I haven’t done my stretches yet,_ she joked to herself. _Damn him._  However, the truth was more complicated: Part of her felt scared and uncertain. Walls nearly cracked during sex when they were younger – when she felt more adventurous.  But this?  Rough sex hadn’t been part of their world since she had been ill -- and definitely not since Vegeta’s accident on Aurora.  
  
He had to snap out of it.

The prince's cheeks reddened as her tiny hand dived for his face again. Bulma stared defiantly as his arm seized hers. She really didn't know what to say about this craziness. She couldn't say anything.

“You want it that bad, huh?” Vegeta snarled with a smile. “Fine then.”  His tail wrapped around her legs like a lasso. “This _toy_ of yours is stronger than you think.”  
  
What did he have planned?  Bulma laughed to hide her uneasiness. “Dude! What are you doing?”  
  
Her voice quavered _just enough_ to stoke her mate's eagerness. She _hungered_ for him too. He knew. Now they could experience the height.   
  
Vegeta flipped Bulma over his thigh, landing a hardened smack on her ass. She screamed bloody murder, but she also _liked_ the fierce sensation. How long had that been? He leaned forward, nipping her earlobe. “I’m sorry I doubted your resilience. We are ready for this now. Trust yourself… and me.”  
  
“I…I don’t know." She almost felt like crying looking at him. "You had a right to be worried about me last year, too. I wasn’t one-hundred percent better, either.” She felt light-headed as Vegeta's fingers entered her, slowly caressing her inside. Her body accepted, moving rhythmically with his strokes.  
  
"But you are now," Vegeta said as pointed teeth pricked Bulma's neck. “I feel every inch of it. You’re strong. I would never harm you. You want this as much as I do.”He held the modest bite near until her tension melted, making her vanilla scent even more enticing.  
  
She also noticed a different scent from Vegeta. She inhaled deeply, taking in an utterly sublime  _aroma_ of musk, clove, and bergamot.  He was _marking her_ in some way, she realized.    
  
“Nice, isn’t it?” he asked, brushing his fingertips lightly over her ass. “It’s affecting you.”  
  
Bulma looked up at him. “What, _exactly_ , do you mean ‘it’?” Even then, her curious scientist’s mind took keen notice. Did his treatments make him more hormonal too? But now she had a harder time staying focused as his senses and carnal desires further melded with hers. "It" felt like a brand-new door had been unlatched.

Vegeta brought her back to eye-level, cupping and massaging her breasts. His steady kneading warmed her insides with a slow burn. “Tell me how _it_ feels,” he said as her eyes fixated on him dreamily. “It has pained me that we couldn't share this together, but now we can.”  
  
He had never expected to, before and after becoming Bulma’s mate. The honor had been one of many that wasn’t meant for him, he believed, and yet the privilege was bestowed. Another gift of divine forgiveness, perhaps -- or just some damned good luck.  
  
Bulma trembled as sweat beaded on her chest. Now she knew what he meant. Breathing heavily, she leaned forward, embracing his waist. “This… ah…is the mating ritual you told me about," she said, laying her head onto his shoulder. "That’s why I feel so… I can’t describe it. It feels so good. Feels so good. But I’m not Saiyan. I’m not Saiyan.”  
  
"In spirit and body, you will be a part of me now, in every way, as much as I will be a part of you," Vegeta replied, first in his native language and then hers. Bulma's head fell back as his ki and psychic force rushed through her like a tidal wave. She moaned and rocked as he gently massaged her clit, drenching his hand in her wetness.  
  
Rather than respond further, the prince sat still as his wife entered estrus, but not one to conceive another child. His lower abdominal muscles tightened as her hands curved inward to claw into his back. He willed his now almost-impenetrable physique to feel the erotic pain. He could do that. He had done so ever since they became lovers, because she wasn't as strong physically. He wouldn’t have to soon, though, now that the ritual had commenced successfully.

Her body’s enhanced defenses, drawn from his, would offer cover as their one-on-one ensued. Maybe she would draw blood. His fist clenched in anticipation from recalling the coppery smell of hers.  
  
Bulma pushed up from her husband’s shoulder, panting with more ferocious and brazen lust than she ever imagined possible – even with him. Every bodily pore felt renewed. She smiled, dampening her lips to devour the dark, wild-haired man in front of her. She saw him with new eyes. Age, infirmity, and fear meant nothing in this new physical dimension. 

Shifting from his grasp, she growled restlessly and said, “You bastard. This is _not_ a fair fight.”

“You hit me first, woman, did you not?” Vegeta asked as his canines extended. He grasped her throat, his thumb pressing down on her carotid artery. “I couldn’t allow that to continue without an _equal_ response. _That_ is fair.”  
  
Bulma’s lips parted as he examined her irises, which had darkened to a richer blue from their hormonal exchange. Pupils were red, as well. Her pulse quickened as they dived into a crushing kiss, ripping their bed clothes to tatters. They were merciless, barely taking time to breathe as the world fell silent. Her mouth opened wide as Vegeta pressed down on the pit of her sacrum, where a tail would be if she had one. Her spine slackened to the point of immobilization. She couldn't utter a sound.

Vegeta spoke smoothly as his wife's canines extended, resembling his. “ _Yes._ Now you know how it truly feels. I hope… your curiosity has been sated.” He nodded with respect and adoration, watching her rejoice in matchless ecstasy and pain. She was the most beautiful woman alive and always would be.  
  
He slowly licked the side of her neck before removing pressure from her back. Bulma's sweat-drenched body slumped over until she bucked against him, driving her teeth into his right bicep. Lithe hands slid between his thighs and underneath his enlarged scrotum.

“Not so fast,” she whispered, making haste with her hand strokes. Everything about him felt hot, thick, and wet. She closed her eyes, feeling dampness between her legs increase.

Vegeta pursed his lips and grunted. “Bite _harder_." With cool detachment, he pressed down on her head, driving her pointed teeth further into muscle. "You know my wounds heal quickly now.”  
  
Bulma matched her bite with her hand's grip, squeezing Vegeta in the one place that could be most sensitive to pressure now _from her_ and _only her_ during their union. Normally this never would be a problem, especially for a man accustomed to having whole mountainsides fall on him, often followed by large and almost always insane creatures. Fortunately, this pain was nowhere near what he had been through the past year. His hormones, which also influenced his mental state, primed him to feel as much as pain from the mating ritual as he allowed.    
  
His teeth gritted as his knees spread further into the mattress. "Oh…gods."  
  
Bulma snickered, grasping harder as he panted. "They can't help you. Besides, you did ask. I kind of like this strength you've given me. May I keep it? You dug up more goddess in me than I knew I had."  
  
Groaning, Vegeta clenched the bed sheets. "You little…"  
  
"Oh, honey, I know you could still dropkick me from that window over there," Bulma said, rolling her eyes. "Or did you really make yourself that vulnerable?" She tapped her chin, smiling deviously. "Oh! I forgot. You do become more physically _exposed_ during this ritual… in some ways."  
  
"You haven't _forgotten_ anything," Vegeta replied. "Clearly."

Bulma always had challenged him sexually, but now she _felt_ and _behaved_ as a Saiyan woman would. He did not want her to be one; he wanted her to experience the distinctive mixture of pleasure and pain and power that made his people who they once were. Saiyans undertaking the ritual left understanding intimately how it felt to dwell within their mates' bodies and grow in strength. If one's partner died, that memory imprint sustained them emotionally. No one lost their mind from grief, ever. 

Vegeta as a boy didn't care much for the stories Nappa shared like these. He was in a living hell. Strength _without_ sentiment was the only thing that mattered to him. Giving sentiment an equal place emotionally got one killed or pushed to the brink of insanity. And yet he had experienced both without it.

But now…  
  
Bulma released him as they laughed together. "It certainly is a different feeling."  
  
Vegeta's eyebrow arched with interest. "Are you going to grab my balls again? While I enjoyed the tingle you inflicted, they are useful for other purposes."  
  
Bulma panted as heat radiated from within. She stood up shakily, eyes glowing and blood rushing through her ears. Vegeta embraced her from behind, guiding his mate as her teeth bared again. He lowered her to the floor as she writhed, aching for more of him. Her body spread wide while he raised on his knees, bringing her left leg around his back and placing the other on his chest. His hard, unyielding thrusts sent her into orgasmic spasms. She slammed her fist on the floor, eyes opening wide, yelling deliriously.

Vegeta moved down to kiss her, slowing his pace as he stared into her eyes. "I… I love you."  
  
Bulma smiled. "I know. Forever."

* * *

  
Their mating rite ended just before sunrise, and they stayed in bed late into the day. Vegeta woke before Bulma, as he often did, moving his body closer into hers. He had watched her sleep for hours.  
  
“Can I please get a little more sleep to recharge my sex batteries?” she asked with a yawn. "I can barely remember your name. Are my teeth back to normal?"  
  
Considering his next words, Vegeta said, “I don’t want to…to have more sex. Not now, at least. Maybe it is time to go home now.”  His voice faded as he left the bed to open the curtains, revealing a panoramic view of snow-capped mountains overlooking a pond surrounded by evergreen trees. A horizontal line of geese glided overhead, his eyes following them. “Animals such as those defiantly claim their freedom. I always have admired them.”  
  
Instinctively realizing what happened, Bulma touched her lips and left their bed. She hugged him from behind until he found words again. Despite endless jokes among friends about past quarrels – all well-deserved -- the spouses could be exceedingly patient in private, when it truly mattered.

“I’m sorry,” she said, holding tighter. “Why didn’t you say you’re having flashbacks? How can I help? You could have awakened me.”  
  
He walked onto the terrace, beckoning her to follow. “I'm fine. They’re not really bad. We’ve been here for days, and what we shared last night grounded me.  It's a lot to take in. I remember a stunning place like this from my early childhood, on my planet, as well as during my travels to Aurora.  Sometimes I smell or hear something that stands out.”  
  
“So why do you want to leave here now, babe?”

Wondering where their talk might lead, Bulma started a pot of coffee. She could have made their beverages quickly but purposely moved slower. While planning their trip, she also chose a secluded room surrounded by nature just for him. When Vegeta wasn’t focused solely on his passions, he still battled with residual effects from trauma: a nightmare, scent, random noise could be unsettling triggers.

After many years, everyone close to their family who cared to understand accepted his abrupt departures, which had decreased as true love and friendship filled his life. Otherwise, those who had traveled with him to Aurora just considered him eccentric, exacting, and no-nonsense. He was a good man and the right man to know if one craved discipline.

Vegeta never told Bulma, but her father helped with his trauma, using tools his researchers developed for treating patients with post-traumatic stress disorder. Dr. Brief had a talent for persuasion, appealing to his son-in-law’s prideful rejection of being controlled by anything. Before he died, the old man asked Vegeta to sit with him. The prince was used to death in every way possible, but being summoned to the man’s beside as if he were his son felt overwhelming at first.  
  
“Every man should live his best life,” Dr. Brief said. “I certainly have. Each tool I created that you use has been a gift to my daughter. When she fell in love with you, I became committed to seeing you live your best life. It’s been hard, but I’m proud that you’ve done right by her now, son -- and yourself.”

Vegeta took Bulma's coffee cup and sipped, reflecting on his father-in-law's wisdom. "Let's return to Aurora together."  
  
She sighed, closing her eyes. "Are you sure? The team is doing well on its own --- and Shana doesn't want to see you."  
  
"Does this upset you?"  
  
"Of course it does, Vegeta, but not because of jealousy or anything. There's _nothing_ you can do. It kills me to see anyone do this -- especially women who have a lot to live for -- but let her have closure."  
  
"She's dying - or, rather, allowing herself to - because of me. She lost hope for something better... for someone better."  
  
"No." Bulma clutched his hand. "Don't say that. There was so much more that happened to her. You both agreed that you did the right thing by breaking it off back then, and you said --"  
  
"That I felt no guilt. I still don't. What I feel is…is duty. I know it may not make sense, but she was the closest thing I had to a friend."  
  
Bulma looked at her husband. Vegeta wouldn't have broached the discussion -- knowing that it possibly could have caused a big argument -- had he not considered it important. He never admitted feelings like these to anyone without overcoming some difficulty. She returned to the window.

 "You go alone. You have my blessing."


	11. Rending and Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Vegeta and Bulma shared a joyous intimate reunion of their minds and bodies to celebrate his recovery. Afterward, the couple debated the appropriateness of Vegeta's sincere desire to tie up loose ends from his past compassionately and honorably.

Vegeta was the quietest Goku had witnessed recently in the two days before they traveled to Aurora -- beyond daily meditation. The prince hadn't said why Bulma wouldn't join them, but Goku wasn't completely clueless. The Celini woman, Shana, obviously played a role. Given Bulma's absence before they departed, he wondered if the other woman had come between the couple in an unpleasant way.

Absurd.

His friends were happy before going on vacation, and Goku never had known  _any_  man more in love with a spouse than Vegeta. Their friend Krillin came in a close second worshiping the ground that his wife, Eighteen, walked on. Bulma deserved the prince's devotion, everyone believed, and Vegeta had made good on the deal.

Goku loved his wife, Chi Chi, and like Vegeta he had killed and sacrificed his life to protect family. But their marital bond was different - not "less than," just different. Unlike him, Vegeta had been so wrecked that it literally took suicide to save his family from a monster's rampage and make peace  _with himself_. Despite the intention, the outcome was no less devastating for Goku, who wanted better and almost didn't see it happen. But they had persevered, and lives were restored from each other's heaven and hell.

He respected the devoted family man Vegeta had become, although the change had disrupted longer "playtime" some days. The prince made it abundantly clear he would return from training trips  _on time_  to his family, as promised to Bulma. No extensions.

Goku since childhood had a talent for persuasion, tempting others to follow  _his desires_  like the fabled Pied Piper. Vegeta had been one of many who took the bait, changing his life for the better. But now the prince lived completely on his own terms. Finding the words to describe how much family meant to him happened within Bulma's arms at night, when he could thoughtfully bare his soul or shed tears in silence.

With Goku at his side, Vegeta crossed his arms in front of the bustling little planetary station the landing team built. Crew members traveled often between the space ship in orbit and the ground operation. Several trickled outside, welcoming the prince's stern presence with happiness and relief. He appeared as robust as everyone had hoped.

Vegeta nodded, proudly observing the condition of his "merry troops," as Bulma called them. Cheers and whistles and applause followed.

"Back to work!" he barked with feigned annoyance. "Enough of this dramatic sappiness."

Seeing a familiar face, Goku smiled and strutted ahead. "Hiya, Dr. Kenny! What's new?"

The doctor smiled kindly as they shook hands. "Pleasure to see you again, Goku, and welcome back, commander. You look terrific. Will you both be with us for a while?"

Disinterested in small talk, Vegeta turned to Goku and said, "Kakarot, go gorge yourself. You, doctor, will come with me."

"Uh, I'm not hungry," Goku replied, scratching his head.

Irritated, Vegeta grumbled and said, " _Stop lying_. You're always hungry. I purposely timed our travel so you would be starving after arrival. You are not coming with us."

 _What an interesting dynamic these two have,_ Kenny thought. His empathic senses hadn't changed: The men's care for each other was strong and ancestral, along with their rivalry. The doctor remained amused that they hadn't killed each other, considering their personalities. He would've laughed with more vigor had he not been so preoccupied.

Being the butt of Vegeta's jokes, Goku noticed the lackluster response. People  _always_  laughed - hard - when he and Vegeta exchanged taunts. His eyes drooped as he rubbed his stomach. Kenny fiddled with his stethoscope, observing the change.

Groaning dramatically for effect, Goku asked, "Can this wait, Vegeta? I really think the doctor should check me out first. My stomach hurts. That's why I'm not hungry, I think. Now I feel like I might throw up."

Vegeta's senses focused on Goku's shaky, weakened ki signature. Both were masters of energy manipulation, so his visible skepticism was unmistakable. "Are you kidding me? You haven't been sick for  _one day_  since your twenties - not since that heart virus."

"Exactly!" Goku said, looking pitifully offended. "You should be worried."

"It's OK," Kenny said calmly. "I'm happy to examine him. He does appear unwell."

"Ugh!" Accepting his predicament, Vegeta replied, "Very well then. The diagnosis better be good - like a sixty-foot-long tapeworm. I just don't want to see it."

"He doesn't like worms, doctor," Goku said. "They frighten him."

"Quiet!" Vegeta stopped short of calling him a dumb ass. "He's delirious, doctor. Let's get him inside." He walked protectively behind Goku to block a possible fall.

Still massaging his stomach, Goku soon opened telepathic communication with Kenny as they entered the station.  _"What happened, doctor? You're holding back._ "

 _"Not really, and Vegeta clearly doesn't give your intuition enough credit,"_ Kenny replied. " _His friend Shana has died. A Celini healer informed me this morning."  
_  
_"Oh no."_

_"Perhaps you should tell him, Goku. That is really why he is here, yes? He looks even stronger than he did before we traveled together, but being a doctor I worry about everything. Emotions can have strange effects on one's health."_

_"So they were very close then? I mean, I knew they had a connection from the past but had no idea it was like this. He didn't say much last year when I asked."_

" _Vegeta is your friend,"_  Kenny said. _"Let him tell you - or not. It is not my place."_

Goku laid down on an examination table while Vegeta looked on. Kenny followed his typical routine of checking heart rate, blood pressure, eye coordination as he continued speaking telepathically.

"Does he need water?" Vegeta asked.

"It might upset his stomach more," the doctor said. "But you probably should drink some yourself and get food. Come back in about an hour. I'll run some tests."

"Hn." Vegeta rubbed his beard. "I am uncomfortable leaving Kakarot alone.  _He's terrified of needles, you know._  He might accidentally kill you trying to run away. Put him to sleep. _"_

"Asshole." Goku gave him a dirty look. "You have the bedside manner of a viper. See if I ever help you again."

With all seriousness, Vegeta eyeballed him again. "Take good care of him, doctor. Really."

Relieved, Kenny exhaled heavily after the prince exited. "How can one man be that intense for days on end? Doesn't it tire him?"

Goku laughed. "Vegeta is uniquely himself. That's for sure. Now tell me more about what happened."

Kenny had spoken about ten minutes before Goku stood and shushed him. Alarmed, the young man looked back at door. "What? Oh my. He's left the station, hasn't he? I guess we shouldn't be surprised."

 _Vegeta always says I let my guard down too easily,_ Goku thought as they ran outside _._ "Any idea where he's going?"

"Could be anywhere," Kenny shouted. "Take this ear sensor so you can receive coordinates while you travel. Can you keep up with him?"

"Eh, I don't want it," Goku replied. "Let's just say Vegeta and I are evenly matched, doc."

* * *

 _He couldn't know,_  Goku thought.  _We haven't been here that long. The Celinis' ki is too weak for us to sense anything._

"Do you take  _me_  for a fool, Kakarot?" In a flash Vegeta appeared in front of him, his sleek black body suit shimmering in the sun. "Apparently you felt it  _necessary_  to lie, though you're terrible at it, so tell me why - now."

"That's a great way to treat the person who brought you here - no questions asked," Goku said evenly. "I think we're even. Now get over yourself and tell me why  _you_  left."

Vegeta's eyes met his. "Just because I didn't outline every detail doesn't mean you don't know anything. I call you an idiot for fun, not because I believe it…entirely."

Goku shook his head. "I don't understand, Vegeta. Are you ashamed or something? What about Bulma? You're both just getting out of a tough time together. Is - "

Sighing, Vegeta turned his back. "Stop it _,_  Kakarot. There is no 'what about' with Bulma, and that's all you should know. Your concern for her is justified and honorable, but consider that I wouldn't be here if my wife didn't... support me. One does not leave a comrade on the battlefield. That's why I'm here. I think you can understand that. Go back to the station."

"I can't, my friend," Goku said, gliding in front of him. "I can't."

He often ended sentences with "my friend" when delivering serious or bad news.

Vegeta blinked twice, eyes settling into protective stoniness. "She's dead, isn't she?"

Goku looked down and nodded. "I'm… sorry."

Vegeta stared over his shoulder and shrugged. "There's nothing to be sorry for. Shana had been ill a long time. It finally caught up with her. Now, both you and that worrywart doctor can stop fretting unnecessarily. You know how much I  _hate_  being treated like the walking wounded."

"You did not want her to be alone, did you?"

Vegeta touched an amulet on his neck engraved with the Saiyan royal crest. "When I lay dying and hopeless from Frieza's torture on Namek, you didn't let me die alone… in spirit. You heard my pleas."

"But you still want to be alone now."

The prince levitated above Goku's head, staring into the horizon. "I'm well-equipped to avoid another ambush by a fucking plant. Do as I said earlier and eat, my friend."

Goku took a long look before flying away. He was a gentle soul at heart, and he felt for Vegeta. The prince's entire life had been infused with poetic pathos. Despite his doubts, he respected his friend's desire to reflect privately on the unfortunate news.

Vegeta soon found the willow tree lee where he and Shana parted in their youth. He sat down, recalling Bulma's reactions during their tumultuous relationship breakups. But they had been solid for a long time now. She had been…had been…

_Wait._

His head tilted left. After cocking his left forefinger like a handgun, he said, "Show yourself. My hearing is quite  _sharp_."

"So I have been told," a woman's voice said politely. She emerged from the background wearing purple ribbon wrapped decoratively on her right shoulder. "Indeed, you look much better since we met. Our friend would be pleased."

Vegeta swiftly scrutinized the young Celini woman, looking for hidden weapons or dangerous materials. Although she appeared an unlikely threat, he kept his distance. Realizing that someone had  _waited_  for him, at this place, felt discomfiting. He had known several smooth-talking, erudite maniacs - Frieza being one.

"I don't know you," he said bluntly. "What do  _you_  want?"

The woman smiled sadly and said, "My name is Quetta. I helped Shana when we found you in the woods, after your poisoning. She was my friend - like an older sister, really. If it's any consolation, I spoke comforting words before she died this morning."

"I don't… don't need consoling," Vegeta replied. "How did you know how I would be here, in this exact location? I haven't been on Aurora that long."

"We're burying her in two days, which is our tradition," Quetta replied, ignoring his question. "Will you come? There are rituals for those in attendance."

"There is no reason for me to be there. Others might feel similarly."

Quetta unfurled three ribbons - scarlet, blue, and white - placing them on a tree stump. Vegeta recognized the colors of his royal house. Clearly Shana had shared much more with this woman over the past year, he thought. He disliked it, but he understood why.

"Prince Vegeta, I preside over the service at Shana's request. Therefore, others defer  _to_   _my wishes_. Do not let your anger and disappointment with her fester. Wear those fabrics on your right shoulder at the burial."

Vegeta frowned and said, "I am  _not_  angry."

"You could have fooled me," Quetta huffed. "Did you know she fought her illness for five years? She lived the way she wanted, for as long as she could, in spite of many personal losses. She was tired."

"She was depressed."

"Yes, throughout the course of her life. No one is immune to the condition - including, from what I understand, not even one of the  _strongest men_  in the known universe."

"She refused help to possibly stay alive - and you don't know me," Vegeta said, glancing at the ribbons.

"But Shana did. We'll be on the western cliffs at sunrise on the day of burial. Also, before you leave Aurora, you must take something back for your wife."

"My wife?"

Quetta grinned. "She is a noble woman who also loves and respects her mate immensely. Ah yes, if only she were Celini. Maybe we will make her an honorary one."

Vegeta's cheeks flushed, to his embarrassment. He certainly hadn't expected to hear that from a stranger. He swallowed and said, "Something else I should know?"

"Your mate gave of herself to our friend until the end."

Vegeta shook his head. "I don't understand. You're being cryptic."

"Perhaps you should ask her," Quetta replied, bowing humbly. "I must go now."

On the day of the funeral, mourners formed long parallel lines as two men and two women carried Shana's closed casket, placing it into a grave adorned with violet-colored flowers. Celini elders sat in front reciting elegies on love, dignity, and virtue. Shana's aunt chose not to attend. Vegeta remained in the procession's shadows until Quetta found him, touching his shoulder. He silently nodded his acknowledgement but did not move further.

The elders, all dressed in white robes, struck the ground with their scepters, spreading large dirt clouds across their slippers. Quetta tore ribbon from her arm before kneeling to throw a handful of dirt on the grave. The elders then ripped fabric on their shoulders and struck the ground again, signifying the final separation of Shana's soul from their world.

The prince tore his ribbons with other mourners. Then he left.

Later, he arrived unceremoniously at the space station ready to depart with Goku. He found him in the dining chamber. No surprise there. Kenny sat nearby holding a small metal container displaying Capsule Corporation's logo.

"What is that for?" Vegeta asked.

The doctor placed the box on the table. "I packed a gift for Bulma that a Celini funeral attendant left here. She said you knew about it."

Vegeta placed his hands on the table, leaning forward. "I'm not taking  _anything_  to my wife until I see it myself. You both should know better."

Kenny and Goku looked at each other briefly before moving to an empty room. Vegeta threw a tiny capsule on the ground, revealing its contents. A table appeared bearing a beautiful blue-and-white floral bouquet from Shana's personal garden, with messages addressed exclusively to Vegeta and Bulma.

The prince paused before removing his gloves. "Let's go home, Kakarot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. Please take a moment to leave a comment if the spirit moves you.


	12. Choosing One's Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Vegeta is returning home after Shana's burial on Aurora. He paid his respects but left feeling that his mission had gone unfulfilled. Bulma is preparing herself.

"Spar tomorrow, buddy?"

The prince almost used his "papa's voice" to scold the friendly bear of a man requesting to play. Bulma had taught Vegeta the effectiveness of this approach, when he finally decided to accept her advice. On several occasions it had worked better than he thought it would.

"We literally just set foot on Earth, Kakarot. You know the rules - and don't call me  _buddy_." Vegeta tolerated Bulma calling him that because she avoided the more-despised sobriquet: "Papa Geets." Even his precious Bulla didn't test his patience with that one.

Goku pouted like a rejected child. "Aw, man. Come on. You might feel better."

"I feel fine. Go annoy your wife and children, while I terrorize mine."

"Whatever, man." Goku hesitated, shuffling his feet. "OK then. You know where I'll be."

Recognizing the waiting game, Vegeta settled into his position. "I said no. Stop loafing."

Goku leaned on the back porch door, looking at him. "No, it's not that."

"For fuck's sake, man! Then what the hell is it?!"

"You're not OK."

"Wow!" Vegeta slapped his forehead in front of Goku as if the heavens had parted. "You just discovered that fact after more than twenty years? Real perceptive, you are!"

"Don't do that," Goku said seriously. "You know  _exactly_  what I mean."

Vegeta walked past him to open the door. "Go home. My thanks for your help will be sent tomorrow to Krillin's house. Invite the gang over to eat. I won't be there, though."

"Yes, I know," Goku said. "Sometimes I just wish when you did nice things for others that you allowed yourself to join in the fun more."

"The act of doing is enough for me," the prince replied. "Remember that the next time, because that's all you're getting."

The men parted ways with a brotherly fist bump. Goku saluted as he launched into the sky, happily scattering the clouds dotting his pathway.

Vegeta debated whether to train a couple hours before finding his wife. Neither expected to greet each other the minute he returned from Aurora. In fact, Bulma wanted him to wind down before they talked. A sensor in their bedroom confirmed his presence in the training center on the eastern end of their estate.

After showering and eating at the center, he returned home feeling uneasy. His family's energy levels felt  _way_  off, but it was late and sleeping often played a role. However, they weren't like  _this_ when he and Goku first arrived. Shortly thereafter he entered a steamy master bedroom, finding his wife and daughter cuddled like rabbits. A messy tissue box and medicine sat on the nightstand next to Bulla.

His mind ran through umpteen scenarios.  _Damn it._   _A sick kid is in my bed and next to my wife, who could easily catch whatever plague this is. Brilliant, Bulma!_

He exhaled wearily before kneeling beside her to whisper. "Hey. Wake up."

"Hmm?" Bulma's eyelids didn't move. She had no plans to change that, choosing to paw at his face instead. "Shhh. Keep your voice down. She just fell asleep."

 _"So is this better?"_ Vegeta thumped her forehead lightly. " _Telepathy has its benefits."_

" _Poke me like that again and you'll lose other benefits that you like far more,"_ she replied, tugging playfully on his beard. After a quick kiss, she lifted the bed sheet for him to join her. Bulla had turned over, snoring and unaware of her father's return.

Vegeta cringed inside as he surveyed their bedroom's condition. A massive antique humidifier on the dresser belched bluish-white steam. Clothing and used tissues were strewn everywhere. This happened each time their children got sick. He couldn't understand why Bulma never used her own company's products to ease her stress, as she did with practically everything else - especially with him not there.

_"It feels like a sauna in here, Bulma. What is that smell? Mint?"_

_"Yeah, she's really congested. You hear her snoring. The steam should help."_

Vegeta peered over her shoulder.  _"Not fast enough, apparently. She sounds like a broken engine. When did this start?"_

_"Her symptoms didn't really start showing until the day before you left with Goku. I noticed she was more tired. You were gone already by the time the worst began."_

_"And you're just telling me now? You could have radioed the station on Aurora."_

Bulma stared at him like he was an idiot.  _"It's just the sniffles, Vegeta. Our kid normally crushes stone tablets barefoot and breaks trees after painting her fingernails, and you're fretting?"_

_"Of course I am, woman! It makes no sense, and Bulla usually has a harder time than those other brats after catching their vile diseases. It never fails to amaze me that Earth's so-called medical authorities can do everything else but destroy this virus. Why isn't your sister working on a project?"_

_"Well, papa, because Tights was busy with other things the past year - if you recall - and there are at least two-hundred different cold viruses. Kids get colds. It's inevitable."_

_"Bullshit. Something else happened for Bulla to contract this. Saiyans don't -"_

Bulma pinched his arm to shut him up.  _"Please do not start preaching about Saiyan immunity. We went through this with Trunks. Guess what? He's still alive! I swear, if we miraculously conceive another child, I will murder you in your sleep for revenge."_

Smart husbands know some arguments will never be won. Some aren't worth winning, either. Vegeta climbed over Bulma, placing himself next to their daughter.

 _"Leave."_  
  
_"What are you talking about, Vegeta?"_

_"You heard me. Sleep in Trunks' old bedroom. You remodeled it anyway."_

Perplexed, Bulma turned over.  _"So what are you going to do?"_

_"Stay here. You don't need more exposure to her cold."_

" _Aw."_ Bulma grinned wider than a well-fed dog. " _Look at my sweet, protective Papa Geets!"_

Vegeta ground his teeth at this sullying of his name.  _"Remember, I'm the only one with telepathy skills here. I can cut you off at any time."_

Bulma's palms joined, pointing up.  _"Thank you, kind master, for your generosity. Thank you, Prince Vegeta the fourth."_ Then she giggled - maybe a little bit too loud. Bulla whined her displeasure with the noise.

Vegeta elbowed his wife until she kicked him.  _"And you were worried about me awakening her, mama bear?"_

Bulla rubbed her rheumy eyes, looking up at him. "Papa? What are…you doing here?"

"I live here," Vegeta said, observing her closely. "It's my bedroom, too. Your disgusting germs have polluted my peaceful sanctuary."

Bulma smiled at them both and said, "But remember, sweetie, he's all better now. He can't be infected anymore by anything like what you have now."

Vegeta nodded. "How do you think you caught this?"

Looking nervous, Bulma clucked her tongue to redirect the conversation quickly. "Vegeta, stop asking silly questions. She's sick."

A sleepy Bulla tried answering, which a round of sneezing blocked until she whimpered again. Vegeta glanced at his wife as he felt their daughter's forehead.

"She won't get a fever with this, remember?" Bulma rubbed his shoulders to calm him. His appearance belied deep-rooted anxiety over loss - because he had lost much. Their child was nowhere near grave danger, but seeing her vulnerable tugged at those feelings.

"If she doesn't catch anything else along with it," he replied.

Then he thought about his son. Much like Bulla, Trunks had been an eager little solider by papa's side, even while Vegeta had trouble grappling with his own emotions. He knew decisively that the youngster could hold his own well. That's what he trained him for - and to this day, Trunks didn't fear death. He would rise if called upon to serve, without complaint. But Vegeta also recalled the searing pain of almost losing his boy forever during a battle that Trunks wasn't supposed to fight.

Bulla grasped his fingers, interlacing them with hers. "Sorry, papa."

"Do I look like I'm worried, princess?"

"I guess not. You look like that a lot."

Ignoring his wife's laughter, Vegeta handed Bulla tissues. "So what happened?"

"What is the big deal?" Bulma protested. "I told you-"

Vegeta's eyes flicked up, expressing his annoyance. "What is  _your_  big deal _,_ Bulma?"

Bulla looked at her father. "Are you arguing?"

"No," her parents said together, watching each other cautiously. "We're fine."

Bulla sniffled, nestling closer to Vegeta. "I… kissed a boy," she said through a tiny cough. "I think I got it from him."

 _Shit!_   _What did she say that for?!_ Bulma felt nauseated as Vegeta's eyes coolly shifted from left to right. She had little recourse now. Bulla probably would have kept quiet had she not been vulnerable, limiting the news to her only. But this was her beloved papa.

Bulma considered having their youngest spend more time with Trunks for a different view of Vegeta's disciplinary skills. The prince wouldn't forget this. Not a chance.

"Come…come again?" Vegeta stuttered. "You  _kissed_  a boy? A  _sick_  boy?"

"One of his friends dared us to try for two minutes. He got sick later, another girl told me. I didn't know."

She  _liked_  the roguish kisser, the prince deduced. Fathers knew these things - or easily assumed them during their situational hysteria.

"You can stop there." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Vegeta shut his eyes.  _I am so unready for this,_ he thought _. Someone's idiot child might die before she turns ten._

Bulma touched his arm gingerly. "Babe-"

He looked into her eyes, speaking mentally.  _"You've said enough. Normally you're quite skilled at playing down problems, which tells me you may not feel well yourself. Go."_

Bulma didn't know how to feel about his controlled response. Did sympathy outweigh anger? Maybe, but telling him that one innocent kiss wasn't a problem could be throwing gasoline on smoldering brush. They also had to discuss his trip to Aurora. One complicated discussion at a time.

"OK," she replied out loud, winking at him. "I'll leave the rest to you."

"Where are you going, mom?"

"Papa is taking over for me, sweetie. You're in good hands. I'm going to sleep in your brother's old room across the hall, so I'm not far."

After fluffing their pillows, Vegeta positioned his arms behind his head and leaned back. "Take another spoonful of medicine, Bulla. You'll fall asleep soon."

"Did I do something wrong, papa?"

"I believe you know the answer. That's why you confessed. Just because you are challenged to act doesn't mean that you should. You should think, 'What may come of this?' at all times. What did your mother say?"

"That I deserved what I got."

Vegeta chuckled to himself, placing his arm around Bulla's shoulder. He wasn't done with his little princess, either. Not a chance.

* * *

" _Dad, wake up_."

" _I am up, Trunks. I heard when you came in. What do you want?_ "

" _Wow. You sure do know how to make a nice guy feel welcome."_

Vegeta rolled over slowly to glance at Bulla, who was still asleep.  _"What do you want, boy?"_

Trunks rubbed his hands together.  _"I heard what happened. What's her punishment?"_

 _"Staying with you and your girlfriend for a week,"_ Vegeta replied humorlessly.

_"No way! You're insane."_

Vegeta smirked, relishing the victory that would soon be his.  _"And your point is?"_

_"What if I say no?"_

_"Four words, son: delayed trust fund payment. This will be good training for when that unfortunate woman marries you and bears children. Hope they get my hair color this time."_

Trunks ran his fingers through his long locks.  _"Yeah, yeah. Breakfast is ready. I brought some for princess. Mom wants to see you. I can stay for a while, too. I want to."_

After putting on a shirt, the prince walked past.  _"Remember what I said when you were eight?"_

 _Yeah."_ Trunks glanced over his shoulder and smiled. " _You said… I made you proud."_

No father could be prouder. Vegeta had left before Thunks finished the sentence. He entered the dining room taking stock of the mouth-watering variety of prepared foods.

"There you are," Bulma said happily. "How is our girl?"

"She's dead to the world now. Trunks will get her to eat a little, I'm sure."

Bulma placed a metal box on the table. "Want to tell me what this is? I found it on the porch, behind my rubber plant."

"Not right now," Vegeta said, sipping his coffee.

Bulma put her cup down and stared. "OK then. We'll return to that subject later. How are you? We can go somewhere after breakfast to discuss what happened on Aurora."

Vegeta shoveled rice and fish into his mouth. After some forceful chewing, he looked up. "I'm fine. You know what happened. There is nothing to discuss."

"Of course there is," Bulma insisted, "and if it takes days, we will talk about it. Quite frankly, after all of this upheaval I deserve a little more consideration here."

"I made a mistake by going," Vegeta said flatly. "You were right. I think that covers the extent of your concern.  _You_  can move on with your life now."

"Wait." Bulma's head snapped up from surprise. "What  _the hell_  did you just say to me?"

"That didn't come out the right way, Bulma."

"You're  _damned right_  it didn't. So what were you trying to say?"

"Can you just back off?!" Vegeta shouted. "Why must we talk now?! Maybe I truly have nothing to say. Maybe there's nothing worth saying that you don't know already. You were able to do what I could not. It wasn't your responsibility, though."

"So it was all yours when you could barely manage yourself, Vegeta? I didn't do whatever you think I did for Shana out some misguided neurosis. She wasn't a stray cat! I did it because we found common ground, and -"

"Because you understood her feelings about being left by me all those years ago." Vegeta picked up the box and stood. "That's stating the obvious."

Bulma followed with her coffee press and two mugs as he walked through the kitchen to their enclosed porch. She sat down, placing them on an end table, while he opened the windows to bring in fresh air. "Did you not believe you would mourn?"

Vegeta turned around, picking up a mug. "I don't mourn for those who've chosen their own fates - however misguided the decisions might be. I accept."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Bulma replied. "I'm your wife, and I'm sure that if I jumped off West City Bridge tomorrow to test my non-existent flight skills, you wouldn't merely  _accept it_. Shall I list other examples where your lack of  _acceptance_ has led to crazy situations?

"Now you're talking nonsense. All of that is different - especially if you're implying any situation related to my relationship with Kakarot."

Bulma's bottom lip twitched as she heard his denial. "You know, I feared this would happen when you suggested returning to Aurora. I hoped it would be different."

"Feared what?"

"You don't do closure well, Vegeta. It's just hard for you - and after everything you've experienced, because of who you are, I understand why. Had you been at Shana's bedside, I guarantee you probably would've reacted similarly."

Vegeta didn't know what to say. He couldn't figure out whether he felt shame, embarrassment, or hurt. All were wrapped up in loss.

"You don't need my permission to grieve more than you expected you would. It's OK. I understand. Trust me, when Yamcha dies, I would grieve for him whether we said goodbye or not. He would do the same with me."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "How can you compare -"

"How can I?" Bulma cocked her head. "I  _cuckolded_  that man to be with  _you_. I know you've thought about it, after you stopped having contempt for him, and maybe felt some guilt about the drama you started before that. You know he's a good guy, and was then. Yamcha and I had highs and lows, but he always will hold a special place as a friend."

Confused and angry, Vegeta raised his left forefinger. "You know what?! I'm done with this. There  _is_  no comparison."

"You stay right there!" Bulma roared. "Don't you  _dare_  run from me! You don't get that luxury today, not after what we've been through since this whole thing started. You know…you know when Trunks and I thought we would never see you again?"

Vegeta stood back, lowering his arm. "Yeah."

"When Goku said you tried to save us and lost,  _Yamcha_  held my shoulders while I screamed and cried out your name on my knees.  _He did it for both of us, and for our young son_. All I heard was him saying I couldn't snap in half."

"You're crying now," Vegeta replied, removing his shoes. "You're still angry about what happened, I see."

"Of course I'm not." Fairly startled by her own response, Bulma paused before accompanying him outside. " _I'm not._  Just think about what I'm saying. Grieve however you want, but you need to grieve in a healthy way. Shana was special, and I can say that now for reasons completely unrelated to you."

"Hn. It appears every Celini woman I met feels the same for you. They would probably kidnap you if they didn't know I could destroy five planets with a finger snap."

"Do they really know now?" Bulma almost choked on her coffee. "Please say they don't."

"Why wouldn't they?" After throwing her mug on the grass, Vegeta pulled her into a kiss they both needed. "I guess we'll open that box next."

She leaned into him, allowing his naughty fingers inside her robe. The cotton's soft friction with his training shorts aroused them both. He pulled her closer, pelvis rocking and rubbing against her backside. He was traveling to a different world, hoping she would follow.

They were having  _such_  a hard time keeping their hands off each other.

"Ah…" Bulma grabbed his arm, shaking her head. "Maybe we should wait? Ah... Vegeta?"

"Wait for sex now?" he gasped. "Are you crazy?"

He moved her hand into his shorts, wrapping her fingers around his dick. She smiled and got to work, stroking him long and hard. He embraced her, shuddering.

"Mom?! Dad?! Where are you?"

After hastily adjusting their clothing, the couple released each other and looked around guardedly. Vegeta's sweaty body had turned beet red. The offspring who ruined their spontaneous playtime was nowhere in sight.

"Damn him!" Laughing, Bulma stamped her feet. "He just goes and ruins my hard work. I was having fun watching you shake like that. I felt like I had a vibrator!"

"You know where the hell we are, boy!" Vegeta bellowed. "You're a Saiyan!"

"That means  _nothing!_ " Trunks yelled. "How can I trust that you and mom won't be naked somewhere? I don't need to see that! I know how babies are made!"

"Be glad you weren't stewing like a boiled chicken in a Saiyan incubator until you were ten, you ungrateful brat!" Vegeta retorted. He was just getting fired up.

Bulma covered his mouth. "You can stop now."

Appearing disappointed, Vegeta crossed his arms and said, "He gets this brazen vulgarity and disrespectful behavior from you. Not to mention our daughter, contracting a disease after kissing some low-class troublemaker. It's beneath their royal lineage."

"Oh?" Bulma faced him. "Well, you did marry a vulgar woman. Good thing I'm  _filthy_  rich." She opened her robe, exposing her entire body to her husband. "We're naked, Trunks!"

Trying to keep a straight face, Vegeta stroked his beard. His eyebrow arched, revealing appreciation for his wife's boldness. "And I'm punished every day."

* * *

Bulma rested on a lounger in the family's library admiring the floral spray Shana's attendants sent. She had removed a poetry book to read from her father's private collection, waiting for Vegeta to finish tending to Bulla.

He leaned against the door, hands firmly in his pockets. "She's in her room. No fever but very snotty. It's…everywhere. I don't remember Trunks' illnesses being this gross this often, like hers are."

"I'm not surprised," Bulma replied, making room for him to sit. "He never attached to your legs like a barnacle when he got sick, only mine." She stared at the flowers again. "I can't get over how lovely those are. Are you ready to listen to the messages now?"

Vegeta took the leather-bound book from her. "What's this?"

"I guess it's kind of a tribute, you know?"

Vegeta's head dropped into his hands. "I can't do another funeral, Bulma. Not in the house. Can I get a drink first?"

Bulma kissed his cheek sweetly. "But you don't drink."

"I can start," he replied, pushing her off with crankiness reserved for moments when he didn't want to do something. "You seemed to like it a lot."

"Will you stop?" Bulma grasped his hand, rubbing his fingers gently. "I know what you're doing. I know it's uncomfortable, but I brought this book out to tell you what happened."

She opened to a page in the center of text, placing his fingers on top.

"I kept her informed regularly about your recovery when she visited the ground station. Then there was the usual stuff about, you know, about working together with her people. And after a while, we just… talked. She was curious about everything. I looked forward to it, really. She did too."

Vegeta put his arm around her, realizing that she wasn't having the easiest time despite her determination to help him. "You don't have to continue."

"I'm all right." She took a deep breath and smiled. "When she wasn't feeling well, I sent messages through Quetta. Shana told me once that she liked poetry, so I sent voice transcriptions of my father's favorites."

"Including this," Vegeta said, staring at his fingers. "I remember you reading it to him, when he couldn't speak anymore."

"Yes," Bulma nodded, wiping tears. "It can be so isolating to be chronically ill and in pain, even with loved ones around. You dealt with this after your accident, too. After seeing how cruel Shana's aunt had been, my heart truly went out to her. I told her what happened when I became sick and wondered if I would see our little girl grow up."

She broke down sobbing in Vegeta's arms. The trauma was fresh in her mind - and now his. More than anything, he wanted to take her pain away entirely.

"You were brave to do that," he said, stroking her face. "But you've always been brave…and generous."

"Not always," Bulma replied, holding his hand. "Then she told me more about when her daughter died. She had been in so much pain but rarely discussed it. After sharing something that personal, I hoped she would decide to accept more help, but I didn't force it. Instead, I just listened. After that I learned so much more."

Vegeta lifted her chin. "I am ready to hear more if you're up to it."

"Actually, let me check on Bulla first. Listen to your message while I'm gone."

"Bulma -"

"I won't be long," she said, kissing his forehead. "I won't be."

Bulma closed the library doors, leaving Vegeta alone with his thoughts and surrounded by family pictures. He dimmed the lights before activating the message pod in the envelope bearing his name.

There was no visual. Just a dignified voice.

"I am so proud of what you've become. I wanted you to know that."

Visualizing Shana's head held high, the prince crossed his hands beneath his chin. "And for that I am… grateful. Farewell."  
  
*The End*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A final note of appreciation for sticking with this story -- and, thus, sticking with me. It has been a joy to write. Your comments, private messages, and Tumblr posts have kept me going. Thank you for helping me keep a promise. ❤️


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